David Boily: Behind the director, the candidate and the street worker
- Audrey Lessard
- Jun 22
- 6 min read
The first office you see when you walk into Villa Beauvoir is his. Glass-walled, open, right at the level of the reception desk. No secretary or assistant on the front line. Just David Boily, director for six years, who signs the leases himself and welcomes the families himself. It's a choice. And that choice, in reality, already says a lot about the man.
Villa Beauvoir is a seniors' residence for 120 people in Alma, in the Saguenay–Lac-Saint-Jean region. In the fall of 2025, David also ran as a municipal councillor in the Saint-Pierre district. But talking with him, you quickly understand that those titles tell only part of the story.
What made me want to invite him to The offbeat conversations is his journey. David is one of those people who built themselves off the beaten path. He studied social intervention and also took university courses in administration and human resources management.
But he learned his trade as a manager mostly in the field. Through experience. Through that self-taught side that drives him to understand how things really work.
And through the very clear desire, at one point in his journey, to become a manager.
Street worker, manager, dad, residence director, municipal candidate: seen from the outside, his path gives the impression of someone who loves challenges. He talks about closeness, about listening, about being present where things really happen.
And the more we talked, the more I noticed there was one word that kept coming back in what he was telling me; field.
The first contacts
And his own first field was that of street workers. And those years shaped him.
What drew him in was the lack of structure. No two days alike. You go to people, in bars, parks, restaurants, and you make yourself available. Addiction, mental health, prevention, youth in difficulty: he liked precisely not being locked into a single role.
He describes himself as a generalist. Someone who would rather understand the whole picture than stay within a framework that's too rigid.
But the pace was demanding. The evening shifts that stretch late into the night. The energy it takes, all the time, to reach out to others and create the contact yourself.
'' You're the one who creates your work. If you decide to talk to no one, nothing will happen. ''
Over time, he realized he also liked building environments where connection could form differently. More lastingly, more rooted in everyday life.
This need to reach out to the world, without burning himself out, is what would push him to change careers.
The need for movement
After street work, management.
When he joins an organization, he looks at everything. Operations, human resources, ways of doing things. He suggests ideas, he gets involved in several things at once. And quickly, the responsibilities grow.
When he arrives at Villa Beauvoir, there's a lot to modernize. Little technology, processes still on paper. For him, it's stimulating. He builds, he transforms. Then, six months later, the pandemic hits.
Today, the residence is full. The renovations are done, staff turnover is low, the waiting list is over a hundred people. Everything runs smoothly.
And that's when he tells me something that made me smile.
'' Right now, I'm scratching the walls.''
He deeply loves what he does. It's simply that he needs to feel he's moving forward, that he's building, improving, solving something.
The first office at the entrance
When I ask him why his office is there, at the entrance, his answer is simple. He likes to follow things from start to finish. To understand situations fully. To take ownership of the wins as much as the mistakes.
In many residences, you first meet a leasing agent, sometimes an assistant. The director stays in the background. For David, it's the opposite. He wants to be on the front line, because that, in his view, is where the connection forms.
He talks a lot about families. About the children who accompany their aging parent, about the worries, about the trust they give him when they entrust someone they love to a residence. And clearly, he takes that very seriously.
Even when a resident has to move to a facility that offers more care, he sometimes keeps visiting them. For him, the connection doesn't end with the contract.
Staying human
I asked him how you stay human when you work close to vulnerability every day.
He answered me almost right away.
« How do you manage not to be? »
The sentence stayed with me. Because it sums up his way of seeing things pretty well.
David talks about elderly people losing their bearings, about tired families, about the impatience that sometimes rises with the loss of autonomy. He supports residents even with very personal tasks.
But the moment that seems to mark him most is when an elder has to be moved for a while, after damage or renovations. He tells me that a simple change of environment can upset an elderly person far beyond what we imagine.
Municipal politics
When he talks about municipal politics, what stands out is the concrete.
A park being built. A dangerous stretch of road being fixed to prevent accidents. The visible, the tangible.
He tells me he can't really see himself in provincial politics. Too far from the field for his taste. Municipal politics, for him, looks a lot like what he already likes doing day to day: being close to people and genuinely taking part in improving a living environment.
The 2025 political campaign surprised him. Door-to-door, which he thought he'd find hard, became one of the parts he liked most. He walked so much that he lost a couple of pounds along the way.
His opponent had the experience. David, for his part, went and earned a solid share of the votes by presenting himself simply as he is. He's proud of it and you can hear it in his voice.
Despite the defeat, he still talks about it with enormous energy. He genuinely loved the experience. Finding hot-button issues, meeting citizens in their homes, listening to what they live through day to day. All of it lit him up.
And he announces it without hesitation: he fully intends to run again in the next election. In four years, he says, he'll just be more prepared.
In the meantime, he keeps an eye out for opportunities that get closer to his goal.
Someone who found another place where his need to act could express itself, and who clearly hasn't said his last word.
Living a mission
There's one topic that comes up with a particular emotion in his voice. The mission behind the residence.
Villa Beauvoir belongs to the Fondation Nick Michel, a unique model in Quebec. There is no private owner pocketing the rents. The profits are redistributed to local charities, to relieve poverty, improve health and support the education of disadvantaged youth. And that, clearly, matters enormously to David.
Because it isn't a token mission. Over more than twenty years, more than one million dollars has been given back to the community this way. Hundreds of organizations have benefited from these sums. The mere fact of living at Villa Beauvoir, just renting a unit, moves something forward in the community.
Then he tells me the story of Nick Michel, the man behind the foundation. A Lebanese immigrant who arrived in Quebec with almost nothing, who sold fabric remnants door to door before building his businesses and his buildings one by one. The residence, he's the one who had it built. When he died, in 2013, he bequeathed it to his foundation so it would keep giving back to the community that had welcomed him.
For David, it's a way of carrying that gesture forward day to day. Making sure the residence stays a warm living environment for its residents and a lever for the surrounding community. A legacy that continues.
You can feel that this story touches him deeply. Because at heart, everything David has been telling me from the start always comes back to the same thing. Being useful.
The offbeat questions
I couldn't end an Offbeat conversations without a few unexpected detours.
If his brain had a permanent soundtrack?
I didn't expect that, '90s dance music, no hesitation. He tells me that sometimes all it takes is a song in the car to change his whole mood.
And if every municipal candidate had to pass a ''real life'' test before running, what question would be on it?
I found his answer brilliant.
'' Your neighbor's name. ''
Because for him, you can't claim to represent people if you don't even know those who live right next door. Good neighborliness, in his words, is very concrete. It's the neighbor who shows up with his snowblower, without you even asking, because he saw you struggling in your driveway.
What I take away
What I take away from David Boily is someone deeply attached to the concrete. To people, to the connections that stay close to everyday life.
Someone who likes to build, fix, improve, move things forward. All while staying as close as possible to the field.
He moves a lot, switches challenges, always looking for the next project. And yet, he stays. In Alma, which he has never left. At the front desk of his residence, where you see him first. With people, even when they leave.
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