Suit or Jeans? How company culture affects the way you dress

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One of the things I like about living in France is discovering the little things that make life so different here. Take clothes for instance. People think that the French are chic, well-dressed, etc. And the Parisians are, definitely more so than à la compagne (”in the countryside”). At my current job, we work in an office. We almost never see a client in our office, since we are in the consulting field, if we see a client it’s at their location. So you would think that we wouldn’t need to be dressed up. And you’d be right. But “they” are anyway. I have to say “they” because I’m not one of them. “They” are the majority of my coworkers who come to work dressed in suits every day. I can’t think of anything more boring. Very little room for personal expression. Everyone looks the same. In fact many of them wear the exact same suit every day for an entire week! Even the shirt. It’s very conformist, but so are the French (more on that later). I’ve only worn a suite a couple times, and that’s when interviewing for a job or when meeting the client for the first time. Otherwise, I like to mix it up. Slacks & a dress shirt one day, jeans & a polo the next. One of my friend mixes it up even more, suite one day and basketball shoes the next.

So why do the majority of my coworkers, who don’t leave the office and don’t see clients wear suites? When I first joined my company I started right away on a project at our partner’s site (another consulting company). I had a very junior team of mostly new college graduates. I was surprised when several of them were wearing suit & tie every day. They explained to me that if one wants to be a manager one has to dress like one, stay late, etc. I should point out that in France everyone wants to be a manager whereas in the US, at least in the software development industry, no one wants to be a manager. The manager’s at my company are always in suits, and the higher the manager the more likely he’ll be wearing a tie. This is in sharp contrast to the west coast in the US. At my last job in the US, we had a vice-president (ok it was a financial company and there were tons of vice presidents) who wore shorts and sandals in the summer.

One of my coworkers attributes this overdressing it to company culture. People just tend to do what everyone else is doing. Including working long hours, etc. I like to be different. But does it affect my career? In a way I hope so. If they see me dressed in jeans maybe they’ll think twice about sending me to a client’s site for a 6 month project! I prefer to stay in my office, wearing my jeans.

Ok I got one more for you, and this goes to show the extent of this company culture. Me and a coworker recently transferred to other business units in our company. At our old business unit, I was dressed mostly in jeans, often in t-shirt or polo shirt, etc. He usually wore dress pants and dress shirt. Now he is working in the financial unit. I saw him after a few days of our transfer and he was wearing a tie. I saw him wear a tie once in the 3 years that I knew him, and now he’s wearing one every day. “Everyone wears ties” he says, and as a manager he feels obligated to do the same. At my unit, I’m not wearing jeans every day but I do wear them a few times a week. And I have yet to wear a suit in our office, nor a tie. Same company, same building, different business units and different floors, and a different “company culture”.

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Being Bilingual

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I was updating my CV a couple years ago, and I came to the language part. I had English as a native language of course, and for French I proudly put courant (”fluent”). At the time, I had only worked in a completely French environment for one year, my previous jobs were more international and we spoke a lot of French but documents were always written in English. So I asked my coworkers for feedback and I got an interesting feedback. They said to change the courant to bilingue (”Bilingual”). So after a brief discussion, I changed it to bilingue and then asked my wife about it when I got home.

In the beginning, which for me is when I moved to France as I divide my life into BF and AF, “Before France” and “After France”, I didn’t speak French so well. I could speak, read, and write (at a basic level) but I just didn’t understand. And that was after 1 year of private French lessons and a lot of studying on my part. I don’t mean to discourage anyone, I’m terrible at foreign languages. So my (future) wife, being fluent in English, talked to me in English a lot. She, like almost all younger generation French people, liked to practice her English. As I got better with my French, we started speaking more and more French. She said my French had gotten better than her English (although I disagreed), and so it was easier to talk in French. That suited me just fine.

Until now. A little over a year ago our daughter was born. Following the advice of every mixed marriage couple we knew, I would speak only in English with my daughter, and my wife would speak to her only in French. But what about between us? We were so used to speaking in French that we continued. And therein lies the delima and the point of this blog.

We recently started researching a Bilingual school for our daughter and have our sights set on la lycée internationale (”the international school”). The criteria for entering, besides academic excellence, is that the children must speak a foreign language (ie. a language other than French) fluently. And since there is a large demand for a limited number of spaces, they must speak very fluently. We spoke with a real estate agent yesterday whose children went to the school, and she advised us to move to the US for 3 years so that when we come back and our daughter takes the language tests, she will speak perfect English. I was kind of hoping she’d speak perfect English even if we stayed in France. But the more I think about it the more I think an hour a day isn’t enough (and that’s on days that I don’t have to stay late at the office!).

So I told my wife that from now on we speak English together, and each of us speaks our native language with our daughter. Easier said than done. Our English conversations usually last only 5 minutes before we’re back in French! When I started my new job recently, I was sitting next to someone else who recently started as well. He wanted to practice his English (which was good but not what I’d call fluent) so he suggested that we speak in English. I thought it was a good idea because I’m a bit tired of speaking French all the time. I’m happy to speak English with French people as long as it’s not too painful they have a good level. Our conversations at first would go 10-15 minutes before turning to French, but now that we’re really busy we have since abandoned the idea. My point in all this is that it’s not easy to speak English. Except with my daughter.

So my theory is this: When you meet someone, you determine the language that you will use to speak to that person and it’s really difficult to change. Which is why I spoke to my daughter in English since before she was even born.

So does all that make me bilingual? I guess that depends on the definition of bilingual. I find myself thinking in French all the time. Is that enough? I must admit that I don’t write well in French, which is really frustrating for me. It’s obvious which chapters in our documents were written by me, and if it weren’t for the spell checker in Microsoft Word I’d be ashamed to write at all. Bilingual certainly looks better on the CV (”resume”) so I’ll leave it.

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The French driver’s license, and why it takes a year to get it.

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Americans who have an American driving license have the right to drive in France for one year. After that, they must either exchange (temporarily) their American license for a French license, or take both le code de la route (”The rules of the road”, the written exam for a driving test) and the driving exam. I wanted to exchange my license but only certain states are eligible and my state wasn’t one of them. So I just kept on driving with my American license. Actually I don’t drive very often so it wasn’t a big deal. After all, I wasn’t even sure I was going to stay in France for very long. But after 6 years it started looking more likely that I’d stay, especially with a baby daughter, so I signed up for le code. I first tried to sign up with an English driving school but it was 3x more expensive and my company refused to pay for it. They said their budget for the year was over (it was in October) and that I could try again next year. Since I had a month of vacation planned for the birth of my daughter, I went ahead and signed up with a normal (French) driving school. 300 euros for le code. If I had known when I signed up that a year later I would still be studying for le code I would have just kept driving illegally with my American license!

I was really surprised at everything we had to know. Questions like “If you’re going 80 Km/hr, what is the distance required to come to a complete stop?” Or, “At 130 Km/hr what is the minimum security distance?” Now I was just two classes short of a minor in math and I was having a hard time with these questions. I studied reading the book, and I did over 30 practice exams (1 hour each), most with a professor. Over 40 hours of instruction total. I was still making 8 mistakes out of 40 questions, and the maximum amount of mistakes allowed was 5 in order to take the official exam. But since my tuition was only for one year, I was out of time. So with nothing to lose, and another year’s tuition to gain, I decided to try.

It wasn’t just the mathematic formulas that were different, all the rules are different. For example, in France there is priority to the right. That means if you’re driving straight ahead and a car approaches form the right, you have to slow down and let them pass. Now that may sound strange, but guess what? It is not strange, it’s insane! Every time you pass a street on the right, you have to slow down to check and make sure there is not a car coming. Personally I think the rules date back to before the automobiles, when people cruised around in horse drawn carriages. Then it was easy to stop and let the carriage to the right pass in front of you. But now days, with cars going fast, this priority to the right is pretty difficult. Add in different signs, tons of useless rules, roundabouts, etc. and you’ve got enough differences to blow your mind.

There were hundreds of mostly kids and a few of us older people. I couldn’t believe the questions, they were so easy. No mathematical calculations, just common sense. I had only 2 mistakes (you’re allowed 5). There were 4 people from our driving school and only 2 of us passed!

So then I took a driving evaluation with the instructor. He was very nice and told me everything I needed to work on. At 43 euros/hour he recommended 3-4 hours. So I got my wife’s brother, who is a very serious driver, to practice with me. After 4+ hours with him I was ready. Another hour and a half with the instructor and I was ready. I passed the test with ease.

In closing I want to point out something quite ironic about this whole process: Americans are allowed to drive for the first year without any training whatsoever, without even knowing the rules. Yet after a year, when we are more familiar with the rules and laws, we’re not allowed to drive. I don’t see the logic in it, but that wouldn’t be the only thing in France that isn’t logical.

And while it may be hard to believe, that’s how it took me 1 year to pass my driving test!

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Good Morning! The Handshake & La Bise

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There is a French custom that I really enjoy, although I must admit that sometimes I get a bit lazy and don’t do it. The tradition goes like this: When you arrive at work, you walk around a shake hands with all your coworkers. On a large team of 30 people, you definitely don’t want to be the last one to arrive! (And usually the last few just sneak in quietly without the handshake).

For women there is an interesting variation: la bise (”the kiss”). It’s not really a kiss but no one told me that when I was studying French in the US and I use to plant a big one on the old ladies at the l’Alliance Française (”The French Alliance”, a French club for francophones) activities. The proper technique is to touch cheeks and kiss the air. Now here is the catch, some women do la bise and some do not. And you have to remember which is which. But it’s more complicated than that, because some women will do la bise with one person and a handshake with another. So what’s the rule? Well the principal rule is that the bise cannot be refused. So if you’re up for it, go for it! You just assume the position and your partner is obliged to comply. Of course if you reserve les bises for only the prettiest of women it will be obvious, so a bit of tact is required!

I personally tend to go for the handshake, thinking I’ll spare the women from la bise, except if I haven’t seen someone in a long time and then la bise is mandatory. One more word on la bise, normally it’s two (one on each side) but for some women it’s 3 or even 4. It’s like dancing, you let your partner guide you. Sometimes I try for a third one even though I know someone is a 2, but they’re on to that trick and it rarely works.

The handshake isn’t just for the morning, it’s for the first time you see someone in the day. Often this can be confusing if you can’t remember if you already shook hands or not. They seem to have a knack for keeping track of it, better than I at least. Sometimes you can get away with two handshakes but I’ve never gotten away with la bise twice!

In the US, when someone is sick, we avoid physical contact. It’s just common sense. But the French are very much into “solidarité” (”solidarity”). So they do the handshake even when they’re sick. I call this “exchanging germs”. It’s quite funny, because when I’m sick I politely inform the person wanting the handshake, and they are like “so what?”. They want their handshake! And when it’s the other person that is sick and I politely refuse, it’s very impolite. I’ve since learned to just go along with it. So far I haven’t been any sicker. I think this is a good testament to the solidarity of the French.

So where did this handshaking tradition begin? One of my coworkers told me that it comes from the middle ages. It was a way for you to show everyone that you weren’t armed. I guess they weren’t sophisticated enough to hide their weapons. But you have to admit it is cool having traditions that are that old. Older than some countries.

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The Egyptian, the Corsicans, and their Italian Restaurants

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Despite having a 1 year old, Friday is still date night. Grandma, who lives near-by, has the baby-sitting honors. And it works out quite well. Usually the friday night date is dinner in Paris and, if it’s not raining, a walk around the city (especially when the dinner is in my favorite “quatier” (”neighborhood”) - St. Michel). But sometimes my wife gets off work early and I have to work late until a normal hour. In that case, we meet at home and walk to a restaurant in our small town. And that’s what happened a few weeks ago.

We decided on Italian food and headed towards our favorite of the two Italian restaurants. The server, and only employee not counting whoever is in the kitchen, is a very kind man who is actually Egyptian. But the food is very good and he is so nice that we go back as much for him as for the food. So on our way we discover the lights were out. I proclaimed that he is not open tonight. We go a bit closer and yes, he’s not open. Having already decided on Italian, we decided to go to the “other” Italian restaurant in our small town. It’s not our favorite because the service isn’t as good. It does seem more Italian, the employees speak a little Italian, enough to fool me. The Egyptian tells us they’re really “Corse” (”Corsican”, from the island of Corsica).

So we go in and we find all the employees sitting watching TV. We like to eat early, actually I like to eat late but with the baby we have to eat early so we can get back home and get her to bed. So the guys tell us they’re not open until 7pm. Ok, that’s understandable, we’ll just walk around the block and come back. Turning to leave I look at my watch, it’s 6:55! We were 5 minutes early and they’re turning us away! But it gets better. As we’re ready to leave they say we can be seated if we don’t mind waiting. Good deal. They didn’t want to get up so they just tell us to sit anywhere. We’re not stupid so we go for one of the two tables by the window. “Any table but that one!” they yell out from across the restaurant. Ok, so we take the table next to the table by the window. I didn’t get it, we were the only ones in the restaurant!

Overall they weren’t very friendly and we didn’t feel welcome. As we finished our meal we decided that was the last time. A few weeks later we went to our Egyptian friend. We got a warm welcome, a free aperatif, great service and great food.

One can draw several conclusions from this story but for now I’ll let you draw your own. And I’ll be writing more about restaurants and customer service in future blogs.

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Badminton anyone?

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I wasn’t able to write last week for two reasons: I was extremely busy with my work, and my right hand & arm were too sore after what I thought would be a simple game of badminton.

I first heard of badminton in France a year ago while talking to a coworker who mentioned playing it. I said, “Isn’t that a game for …” and he filled in the rest (I won’t repeat it because it could be offensive to some people!). He told me that it wasn’t, but I still imagined in my head people dancing around tapping the little flying thing over the net.

Recently, I found out that a friend and former coworker plays this badminton. So I say “Isn’t that a game for picnics?” (I was being much nicer than the other guy). She laughed and explained that it’s pretty serious and very popular in Asia, etc.

My racket sport experience goes back to the high school tennis team (we were really bad, didn’t even have try-outs) and here in France I played with a friend once a week for over 3 years. When my daughter was born we both got busy and stopped playing. So now I was curious about this badminton sport, since it was more popular than tennis with my coworkers. A bit of Googling led me to Wikipedia Badminton. It seemed this was a very serious sport afterall. So I asked my coworker to play. I figured with my tennis experience, I could pick up badminton very quickly and surprise her with a competitive match. Before our match I learned that she takes private lessons, plays in tournaments, etc. Ok, this should be interesting.

Racket sports are very popular in France, and there are lots of tennis (and of course badminton) clubs. From our work, a 20 minute combination of walking & train had us at the closest badminton courts. We reserved 1 hour, and fortunately (or as you will see later on, unfortunately for me), the court was available afterwards. I say fortunately because for the first hour I could not even hit the shuttlecock! It was very embarrassing. For one hour I swung at this thing, and missed! To the amusement of my friend and everyone else in the neighboring courts. I was too fast and too slow, and when I did make contact, my racket was at an angle, which creates a spin in tennis but in badminton it creates so much spin that the shuttlecock doesn’t go very far (sometimes just a few inches!).

After an hour I was able to get it across the net. But only if I used an overhand stroke (like a serve in tennis). A forehand or backhand was out of the question. The badminton racket is longer than a tennis racket so judging the distance was very difficult. After two hours I had a major breakthrough (thanks to my great coach) and we were able to do longer exchanges. I got better at placing the ball, right/left, front/back. I even learned the smash although most of my smashes were on accident.

The time went by fast and soon we realized that we had been playing for over 3 hours. On the way home we arranged for another lesson and with a bit of luck with the train schedule, less than an hour later I was back at home. I exercise regularly and had even been doing extra bike sessions (30 minutes every day) to prepare me for this match (I’m a serious competitor, even if I’m not a good one!). However, after 3 hours of badminton, I was exhausted. And there’s a reason. According to the French Wikipedia Badminton page, a 3 hour match of tennis has just 30 minutes of real play. This was always one aspect of tennis that I didn’t like. Unless you have ball boys you spend a lot of time getting the balls, preparing for serves, etc. In badminton, almost all the time is effective play. The court is much smaller, and the shuttlecock rarely goes out of bounds. At first I was afraid to hit it hard, but I soon learned that I could hit it as hard as I wanted and it wouldn’t go out of the court. That’s pretty cool, because there’s nothing better after a stressful day of work than hitting something as hard as possible and not having to go chase it because you hit it out of the court!

Earlier I said unfortunately and that’s because 3+ hours was a bit too much for my first time. The next day my forearm was very sore. I had to configure my mouse for my left hand and had a lot of trouble eating sashimi with chopsticks for lunch. The day after was even worse, I had sore body parts that I didn’t even know existed!

I was going to close with a comparison of sports in France and the US, but that will have to be a future blog entry. So let me close with a few facts about badminton: It’s one of the most intensive sports for the heart, alongside squash, water polo and ice hockey. Not only that, but it’s very easy to learn (unless you’re a tennis player) and anyone can play. And most importantly, it’s a lot of fun!

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The daily grind - a typical weekday

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I thought it’d be a good idea to describe a typical weekday, so here goes:

I wake up around 7:45 and give the baby her bottle while I get dressed. I typically eat either a piece of whole-grain toast with lowfat creme cheese, cinnamon, & powdered sugar (my version of a healthy Cinnabon), or I go with a banana and a plain unsweetened yogurt. I point out that my breakfasts in the US were usually cereal, microwave pancakes, toaster waffles, or McDonald’s. I’ve really improved my diet here in France.

By 8:45 I’m carrying my daughter to the daycare. It’s about 7 minute walk, and I feel very lucky that I can walk it and participate in her day (my wife has a car, I rely on public transport). After a quick chitchat with the ladies and children at the daycare, I walk to bus stop and hop on a bus to the tram stop. I can walk to the tram in about 10 minutes but it’s quicker if I hop on the bus. After a few minutes waiting for the tram, I get on and if I’m lucky I get a seat. Which is nice because I usually read documents from work during the 15 minute tram ride. I arrive at la gare (”train station”) and it’s a 6 minute walk to the office.

Thousands of people are going from la gare to their office, and I often laugh because the sounds of our shoes hitting the pavement reminds me of an army marching into battle. At work I badge through the gates and punch in my floor and the display tells me which elevator to take. This is a cool system which prevents the elevator from stopping at every floor! I’m almost always the first or second stop (about 15 seconds if it’s the first). We’re near the top so the view is great.

I arrive at my desk about 9:40 and read my personal emails, check my stocks from the day before, and if I have time a quick read of a favorite blog or CNN. I usually get invited at least once for café (”coffee”). Café doesn’t have to mean coffee, I usually drink water, it can mean tea or any other beverage. One of my coworkers explained the significance of a warm beverage: It forces you to slow down and talk a bit, making it very social. Then it’s to work.

Lunch depends on when the cafeteria is crowded. In my old office it was always at 11:50 (to avoid the crowds), at my new office (I recently changed jobs) people eat outside, usually a sandwich. I don’t like sandwiches so I try to eat in the cafeteria. At my old job I ate with the same people for 2 years. Since I just started my new job I haven’t yet established these long term lunch relationships.

The cafeteria is nice and the company pays a big percentage (about 1/3) so it’s affordable. And well balanced. I usually get raw shredded carrots, a meat, with vegetables or rice, and if there is a good dessert I get it, if not fruit yogurt. In the US, I’d usually bring a Michelina’s or Budget Gourmet microwave meal and eat that at my desk. What a difference!

After lunch is another café, I often skip this one. Many of my coworkers spend 1 hour a day or more just socializing while drinking coffee! It’s a French national pastime! The normal French café schedule is around 10h, 13h (after lunch), and 16h. They love are addicted to the caffeine. I prefer to skip the after lunch café and reserve my 16h café for seeing a friend that I don’t see regularly (someone from another project, another floor, etc.). I find it a bit strange to stand around for 20+ minutes with the people sitting next to me all day.

The afternoon continues until around 6:30pm when I usually go home. That makes a 8-8.5 hour work day. If I have a lot of work I don’t mind staying until 7pm, and sometimes I work on the train home and then at home. Many of my coworkers put in a lot of hours, but for many I think know that all of those hours are not productive. I don’t have time to waste so I try to make my hours productive and not just hang out at work all evening.

Another 8 minute walk to the train station and then a 10 minute train ride to my small town outside of Paris. A 10 minute walk back to the house (30 minutes door to door if I don’t have to wait for my train) and I’m at home (around 7pm). I quickly do 20-30 minutes of exercise on the bike and then shower and we have dinner around 8pm. Dinner is always home made and freshly cooked, mostly from scratch. I’m lucky that my wife is a wonderful cook and that she cooks very healthy! In the US I had a weekly schedule to make sure my meals were well balanced between Burger King, Taco Bell, Long John Silver’s, and KFC!

We get our daughter in bed by 9pm and then we’re in bed by 10pm to watch Seinfeld or part of a movie before going to sleep around 11pm.

Well there you have it. The daily grind. It’s not that different than the typical day in the US. I ate worse and I drove instead of walking & taking public transportation. I really love walking and taking trains instead of driving. I enjoy reading a book, magazine, or using my computer on the train. Even though getting through la gare can be stressful with thousands of people pushing and shoving, I find once I’m seated it’s much less stressful than traffic jams.

The actual time at work is pretty similar in France to the US, except that it’s café in France instead of water. The healthy eating and walking has helped me to stay in shape and keep my weight constant. And I’m sure it’s better for my long term health.

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The crabby eye doctor

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After a few months of eye problems, culminating with a month of conjunctivitis,
my wife made me an “urgent” appointment with the eye dr. I arrived just a few
minutes early and just happened to enter as she was allowing a patient to leave.
She then asked me who I was and then remembered that her answering service
had added me to her schedule as the last person of the day. I thought she was
on time but she instructed me to wait in the waiting room.

About 10 minutes later it was my turn. I showed her my eyes and the medicines
I’d been using on them (antibiotics and steroids). She asked how long I’d been
using them. “Oh about a month”. That’s when the butt-chewing began. She really
got on my case because these types of drops are only to be used for 15 days
maximum. I knew that all medicines have silly expiration dates just to get us
to throw them away and buy more, but apparently eye medicines really do have
short expiration dates!

So she instructs me to put a warm towel on my eyes and then massage them. And to
throw the medicines away. Now I must point out that she had been telling me that
over and over, practically yelling at me for using them for so long, saying they
can cause allergies, etc. Ok, ok, I got it. So at the end of the consultation
I put them back in my pocket so that I could throw them away when I got home. That’s
when I really got into trouble. She was saying “and what does he do? He puts them
back in your pocket! I can’t believe it!” So I said “Do you have a garbage?” and
she took them from me and threw them away.

She’s old and always crabby, so why do I go back? Cause she’s good. And if you go
in expecting her to be crabby and fussy, it’s quite comical.

You may have noticed that I got the appointment the same day, I didn’t talk about
a secretary, etc. It’s true and I’ll be writing about that in a future article.

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The elusive Hilton bathrooms

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I take the train to work, it’s 30-35 minutes round trip, with only 12 of that on the train. That’s one the way I stay fit. At the gare (”train station”), I have several different ways to walk to the office. One of my favorites is the most direct route (and the warmest)which takes me through the Hilton hotel lobby and out the other side into a small shopping area. So the other day, I see a guy coming in from the shopping center side. He didn’t look like a Hilton client, but that’s not unusual because neither did I. So he starts heading down the stairs at the Hilton and a security guard intercepts him. All this is happening as I’m walking by so I don’t hear everything but I think I hear les toilettes (”the bathrooms”). So I continue, now outside the Hilton and inside the shopping area with stores and restaurants. It’s 9:30 so everything is just opening up. And the guy I saw who previously walked past me into the Hilton now passes me again but going away from the Hilton. Very fast. And then I realized it. Les toilettes!. He’s now running. And was praying to myself that he makes it.

That man represents all of us here in France. Customer service and hospitality aren’t as popular here as in the US, and unfortunately bathrooms aren’t either. And that includes letting people use the bathrooms. They’re few and far between, and businesses typically reserve them for their guests. And if there are public bathrooms, there’s usually a Dame Pipi (”Pee-pee Lady”) who either charges or collections tips. I’ve heard stories of people buying a beer in a pub just to be able to go to the bathroom, but that only prolongs the situation. Of course there are the public bathrooms, the ones that are coin-operated. I had a bad experience in one of those the first week I arrived in Paris and haven’t been in one since. But that will be the subject of another blog.

So what do most of the French do? They hold it. And they’re quite good at it!

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The pot de départ, the French, and alcohol

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Yesterday I wrote about when it’s time to change jobs, which was actually a cumulation of reflexions that I’d had over the past few months. Because transfers must happen on the first day of the month, my last day in my old department and the first day at my new one both fell during the same week, which was last week. Since another coworker was also transferring, we decided to do a small pot de départ (”going away party”) together.

Warning: do not attempt this in the US because you could be fired! This is a pot de départ French style. And that means lots of alcohol! The French, and Europeans in general, and much more relaxed about alcohol than in the US. Alcohol is very much a part of the European culture. Beer was invented because the water was not safe to drink, fermentation created alcohol which killed the germs and made it safer. My Italian grandfather used to say the same thing about wine in Italy when my mom refused to let me have some at the big holiday dinners. Contrast this with alcohol in the US, which is still taboo for many people.

In Paris, life revolves around the cafés. They serve not only coffee, but beer and wine and even the hard stuff. As well as food of course. And it’s not uncommon to see people enjoying a beer at the counter, in the morning! I think it’s especially funny to see an old elderly lady having a beer at the counter. There’s nothing masculine about beer here.

Next, most big companies have a cafeteria. Here you’ll find a small selection of beers, small wine bottles, half bottles, or wine by the glass. Surprisingly not many people drink alcohol in the cafeterias. I suspect this is because they don’t want to be seen by their superiors, because many of those same people would certainly have some wine with their meal at a café. Wine at lunch makes me sleepy in the afternoon so I reserve my wine drinking for the evenings.

So all this about alcohol being commonplace sets up the stage for the pot de départ. The French going away party usually consists of a selection of small snacks both salty and sweet. Chips, nuts, dips, and candies. For drinks, there are soft drinks, orange juice, and Champagne (or Mousseux which is the same thing as Champagne but it’s made in another region in France and therefore cannot use the name Champagne). And I should also mention there one need not quit the department or company in order to faire un pot “Throw a party”. There are pot d’arrivé (”arrival party”) (if we can convince the new person that “everyone does it”), pot projet (”project party”), or just a plain old pot with any reason at all. They’re usually at 18:00 but are sometimes held during the lunch hours.

Our pot was quite simple, we invited a few of our closest friends, and it was très sympa (”very nice”).

All this is in sharp contrast to how things work in the US. First alcohol is forbidden at work and even during lunch breaks. I went to lunch at a restaurant once with a coworker once who ordered a martini and I was shocked. So it just isn’t in the American mentality to drink alcohol during the day and/or at work. So what we Americans usually do is just invite the person who is leaving to a restaurant for one final lunch. I remember for one of mine we went to Fatburger. Just thinking about it makes me laugh. How can one compare a Coke and a big greasy hamburger to a glass of Champagne and pistachios? I must admit, when it comes to les pots, the French do them right!

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