C'est la vie is one of those widely known French expressions. Unlike zut alors or sacre bleu actual French people still use this expression from time to time. They're usually older and love irony. Especially when it screws with your vie and not theirs.
For the past seven months I have been dealing with the French bureaucracy. What is the deal with French bureaucracy you ask? Let me give you an example.
In one day I asked four people (who work within the same office for the same department and the same agency) the same question and got four completely different answers. I would be considered rather lucky by most French people for getting any answers at all. Most of the time when I ask a question of a civil servant in France I get shoulder shrugs, blank stares, or told I must complete a list of laborious tasks that are so complicated and so convoluted that even Hercules himself would have been like, "ummm no".
So how does one deal with French bureaucracy? Cute outfits, lots of champagne, and a sense of humour help. But in reality the way to deal with any messy situation in France boils down to your ability to write letters in French that you send via une lettre recommandée also known as une lettre avec avis de réception or une lettre avec acusé de réception.
Simply put une lettre avec acusé de réception is a very legal way of sending a letter that gives you the right to say "Hey I sent you a letter on this date, you signed for it on this date, and I have/have not received a response" because it must be signed for in order to receive it. When you send a letter by this method in France it means once the recipient signs for it, you'll get back a card in the mail with the recipient's signature. In the US it's called signed for delivery and it can mean you're merely signing for that iPad you ordered online, but in France there are a number of judicial implications that come with not responding to a letter sent this way as it meets the criteria to be entered into evidence in a court of law.
Sending a letter by this method is not to be used lightly of course, but it does show the recipient you mean business. For months I hesitated to send letters by this method because it's deemed so serious, but when the time called for it I sent a letter with acusé de réception and had the response I was hoping for (in part) within 2 days. I even got a phone call when I sent a second one.
And this from the same person who when I traveled 40 minutes (one way) to her office to speak with her in person looked at my paperwork, shrugged her shoulders, and when I explained I had endured this merde (I used the word "situation" when I spoke with her) for six months explained to me c'est la vie. That's life she said. Sure I was exhausted from my efforts, frustrated, and had spent an excessive amount of money on expensive footwear to dull the pain, but she was unsympathetic until she saw I'd figured out the secret and the majesty that is la lettre recomandée avec acusé de réception.
Granted I won the battle but not the war, but when you've been fighting at Waterloo for seven months it's nice to think you might be the Duke of Wellington and not poor little Napoleon. Plus to be honest back in Napoleon's time warfare was a gentleman's sport and the bureaucracy of modern day France is anything but. It's brutal and demoralising and really, really time consuming. Who likes unfun things that are extremely time consuming? Right, none of us.
Time is best consumed in other ways like cooking really good Mexican food (no seriously my carne guisada is so good I can't believe how good it is) or reposing in my divan to read Gaddis' Recognitions (which is according to my friend Richard the best book ever written and at 996 pages it better be) or sitting at my desk to try and be a literary genius. After all, that's what I'm supposed to be doing. Not dealing with some angry French lady who is mad at me for no reason other than that I've asked her to do her job. And that there as they say, is the rub.
The reality is that in France civil servants have no reason to do their jobs well unless their own personal work ethic demands it. While I find it hard to believe that this can happen given that most of the agencies are there to help people, there is no incentive for these workers, and the public knowing this tends to act accordingly.
One thing I've tried to do throughout all of this was to remain polite and respectful. Even in my letters I was careful to show the same level of respect, even if I knew the person I was dealing with deserved none. I still believe even 7 months later without a definitive end to my woes in sight that regardless of how you are treated you have to take the high road. When this problem is over it's over. Those people will still be in their jobs and I won't have to deal with them. At least not until some new problem arises.
But that doesn't mean you can't be a little snarky. I mean I can only hear c'est la vie and bon courage so many times. So when I was told yet again that that's just the way life is, I asked the woman, but why? Why can't we make this more simple and easier for both of us?
When I told my best friend tonight on the phone who is also French but lived here most his life that the woman actually picked up the phone not once but twice (the first time the line was busy) to ask if there was any way they could make an exception for me he was shocked. He even dropped his new Nexus-S phone in the Metro. He couldn't believe it.
So the moral to this story is that while the big boss said no exception could be made, this woman did her very best for me today and I'm pretty sure it's because no matter how many times she's delivered bad news to me either in person or by letter or by phone I've always thanked her for her time and smiled and wished her a good day all the same.
Now given that I've sent her a little handwritten thank you card today for her efforts I don't think I'll have a problem when I have to go see her, yet again, tomorrow. But as they say in French, on verra (we'll see).
For the past seven months I have been dealing with the French bureaucracy. What is the deal with French bureaucracy you ask? Let me give you an example.
In one day I asked four people (who work within the same office for the same department and the same agency) the same question and got four completely different answers. I would be considered rather lucky by most French people for getting any answers at all. Most of the time when I ask a question of a civil servant in France I get shoulder shrugs, blank stares, or told I must complete a list of laborious tasks that are so complicated and so convoluted that even Hercules himself would have been like, "ummm no".
So how does one deal with French bureaucracy? Cute outfits, lots of champagne, and a sense of humour help. But in reality the way to deal with any messy situation in France boils down to your ability to write letters in French that you send via une lettre recommandée also known as une lettre avec avis de réception or une lettre avec acusé de réception.
Simply put une lettre avec acusé de réception is a very legal way of sending a letter that gives you the right to say "Hey I sent you a letter on this date, you signed for it on this date, and I have/have not received a response" because it must be signed for in order to receive it. When you send a letter by this method in France it means once the recipient signs for it, you'll get back a card in the mail with the recipient's signature. In the US it's called signed for delivery and it can mean you're merely signing for that iPad you ordered online, but in France there are a number of judicial implications that come with not responding to a letter sent this way as it meets the criteria to be entered into evidence in a court of law.
Sending a letter by this method is not to be used lightly of course, but it does show the recipient you mean business. For months I hesitated to send letters by this method because it's deemed so serious, but when the time called for it I sent a letter with acusé de réception and had the response I was hoping for (in part) within 2 days. I even got a phone call when I sent a second one.
And this from the same person who when I traveled 40 minutes (one way) to her office to speak with her in person looked at my paperwork, shrugged her shoulders, and when I explained I had endured this merde (I used the word "situation" when I spoke with her) for six months explained to me c'est la vie. That's life she said. Sure I was exhausted from my efforts, frustrated, and had spent an excessive amount of money on expensive footwear to dull the pain, but she was unsympathetic until she saw I'd figured out the secret and the majesty that is la lettre recomandée avec acusé de réception.
Granted I won the battle but not the war, but when you've been fighting at Waterloo for seven months it's nice to think you might be the Duke of Wellington and not poor little Napoleon. Plus to be honest back in Napoleon's time warfare was a gentleman's sport and the bureaucracy of modern day France is anything but. It's brutal and demoralising and really, really time consuming. Who likes unfun things that are extremely time consuming? Right, none of us.
Time is best consumed in other ways like cooking really good Mexican food (no seriously my carne guisada is so good I can't believe how good it is) or reposing in my divan to read Gaddis' Recognitions (which is according to my friend Richard the best book ever written and at 996 pages it better be) or sitting at my desk to try and be a literary genius. After all, that's what I'm supposed to be doing. Not dealing with some angry French lady who is mad at me for no reason other than that I've asked her to do her job. And that there as they say, is the rub.
The reality is that in France civil servants have no reason to do their jobs well unless their own personal work ethic demands it. While I find it hard to believe that this can happen given that most of the agencies are there to help people, there is no incentive for these workers, and the public knowing this tends to act accordingly.
One thing I've tried to do throughout all of this was to remain polite and respectful. Even in my letters I was careful to show the same level of respect, even if I knew the person I was dealing with deserved none. I still believe even 7 months later without a definitive end to my woes in sight that regardless of how you are treated you have to take the high road. When this problem is over it's over. Those people will still be in their jobs and I won't have to deal with them. At least not until some new problem arises.
But that doesn't mean you can't be a little snarky. I mean I can only hear c'est la vie and bon courage so many times. So when I was told yet again that that's just the way life is, I asked the woman, but why? Why can't we make this more simple and easier for both of us?
When I told my best friend tonight on the phone who is also French but lived here most his life that the woman actually picked up the phone not once but twice (the first time the line was busy) to ask if there was any way they could make an exception for me he was shocked. He even dropped his new Nexus-S phone in the Metro. He couldn't believe it.
So the moral to this story is that while the big boss said no exception could be made, this woman did her very best for me today and I'm pretty sure it's because no matter how many times she's delivered bad news to me either in person or by letter or by phone I've always thanked her for her time and smiled and wished her a good day all the same.
Now given that I've sent her a little handwritten thank you card today for her efforts I don't think I'll have a problem when I have to go see her, yet again, tomorrow. But as they say in French, on verra (we'll see).
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