Her Majesty La Secretaire

Ok so I realise I have most probably lost any readers who may have stumbled upon this blog since I have been writing like a post a month but I do intend to get back on the blogging saddle once I have internet at home.

In the meantime and whilst I have internet connection via wifi a bit of an explanation about what I have been doing. Well that can be answered in one word... working! Like I said I've joined a company and I'm at D-2 days until the end of my trial period. The concept of trial period may seem weird to those in the UK and the US given that when I said I could be fired for any reason and at any time, that doesn't seem out of the ordinary for most people. In France workers have a lot of security and after Tuesday when my trial period will be over I will have more job security. Basically they won't be able to fire me unless the Company has financial difficulties (which in the current climate is not impossible) or unless I do something really really wrong.

You see the longer you work for a company the more job security you have. This, in my opinion, explains the nemesis of many office workers - the French secretary. She is not someone in a low cut top, tight skirt and pouty lips, she's usually sour faced and on the large side having spent many an hour on her behind doing very little. From my experience French secretaries are damn unhelpful. Why? because they aren't paid to be nice to you, or to help you, or to do their job to the very best of their abilities, in their opinion they are already doing more than enough by actually being at work on time and for the legally required amount of time (35 hours a week) Don't get me wrong I'm not saying the French in general don't make good workers, because they do I have daily proof of it, it's just that more that once in my life I have come accross those who have been in the job so long, in the company so long, that they know exactly the minimum they have to do and have no intention of doing any more than that, including being cheerful!

I've temped as an assistante/secretary myself in France and in the UK so know what I'm talking about. Secretaries have the power in France, just look at those who work in the famous French administration! I'm sure in every company you'll find someone who matches this description, someone you may have been warned about. You may have been told for example "Nathalie will help you but make sure you ask her nicely" and by 'nicely' they mean "Hello Nathalie, I hope I'm not troubling you, I know you've got a lot of work on your hands but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind telling me where I can find an envelope? Thank you very much, that's very kind". And then you retreat out of the room repeating your thank yous until you reach the door and can then turn your back to her. As the French say, its "nine times 'si vous plait' and twelve times 'merci'" for the smallest of things. Not ALL secretaries are like that, some are amazingly kind and helpful, but I have already met quite a few formidable characters who you have to grovel to to get anything from them and who will black list you possibly for the rest of your time in the company if you don't say good morning to them everyday! They work 9-5 on the dot, take 1 full hour or more for lunch and a cigarette break every hour in between. They take their fully 25 days of paid holidays and one RTT day (called 'rest days' in France) per month. They can make even the most senior manager afraid of them and are known for having a "caractère". I've always been amazed that this kind of person exists when really their boss should take them aside and tell them to sort out their attitude, but in France the boss knows quite well that whilst Nathalie (for example) might be a bit of a dragon there is no budging her because if he were to fire her she could complain and probably receive a huge amount of compensation.

So Her Majesty the Secretary can act as diva-ish as she likes safe in the knowledge that no-one will dare cross her. That said, play by the rules and there's no problem. She can be your best ally ...... depending on her mood!

Service will be resumed again shortly….

Apologies for the blogging absence. This is not due to me being like the rest of France and sunning myself on the south coast somewhere during the whole month of August but is in fact due to my new job. Yes following my resignation I have now started a new job, one where I both have no time to blog and also actually want to do the work put in front of me, yes even in August when the office is effectively empty. Furthermore I am under a “periode d’essai” or “trial period” for three months during which my employer may fire me for any reason or for no reason but equally I may also decide that the job doesn’t suit me and leave without giving the required notice. So you see I have to be on my bestest behaviour for the next few months and cannot (nor would I want to) use work time to blog. Come October when hopefully the trial period will be over I plan to move flats and get internet connection at home. After that I shall come back with freshly renewed blogging enthusiasm and once again recount my anecdotes of my life in France.

In the meantime, merci pour votre patience!

Démission

Finding a job in France is difficult. European Law states that the qualifications you obtained in your own country should be recognised in another country, in practice it is not always that easy. In France my qualifications were recognised but I decided that just to be sure I should try and get a few qualifications here as well. The easiest job to find for an English person is as an English teacher, either in primary schools or in the university. I did both. My first job I found through the British Council. It was lovely working with the children and I learnt many things. Working at the university was even better because I was paid a salary over the two years of my fixed contract even though I only actually taught from October through to December and February through to end of April and had little else to do in between those periods except to invigilate a few exams. Unlike the hard working "real" teachers, there was only a bit of preparation and no one asked to see my lesson plans. Although, coming from a family of teachers, I had in fact planned and prepared my lessons, no one actually came to check what it was I was teaching. Whilst I loved teaching I did not want to be a teacher all my life as I had obtained qualifications in another field and wanted to pursue a career in that field. My contract in Bordeaux ran out after two years and under French law could not be renewed, nor could I apply to be a language assistant in another university. Having seen a friend spend a year on the dole in Bordeaux, trying to find work, I knew I had no choice but to leave Bordeaux and go to Paris to find work.

I spent an entire summer applying for jobs around France. I had the requisite qualifications (both French and English) but not the experience. In France, most people gain work experience by doing unpaid or low paid internships. Some internships pay 300 euros a month, which given that a tiny bedroom flat in Paris would cost me 500 euros a month, was just not possible. I had a friend who now has a good job in a company and who, after leaving university, spent around 2 years going from one internship to another before finally finding a job. He lived in a tiny "chambre de bonne" (maid's room) but luckily his grandma had a lovely big apartment two floors down so whilst he slept in his own room he could use his grandma's flat to eat, wash, etc. Doing internships was not an option for me. I couldn't possibly survive without a job. The day I arrived in Paris I had some savings, a room in a flat sharing with some American girls which would cost me 600 Euros a month and no job. I then spent three days visiting every recruitment agency in that area and handing out my CV. Back in the UK I had spent summers temping as an administrative assistant in a company and then twice as a legal secretary in two law firms. I had also during my studies worked in bars, restaurants and shops. This boded well for me on my CV. I must be able to find some kind of work in Paris, I thought. Yet, out of all the agencies to which I gave my CV, very few called me back. One, a British recruitment agency got back to me fairly quickly. I went over to see meet with the manager of this agency. After having done a couple of typing tests, in French and English, as well as a proof reading exercise, I was interviewed by the manager. "You're over qualified for anything I may have for you. My clients are looking for bilingual secretaries or bilingual assistants. Given your qualifications, would you be happy working in such a role". "I'm here to find a job, any job. I need to work. If you can find me a job then I'd be happy to do that job" I said. "Ok then, we'll see what we can do" she said. About a week later she had lined up two interviews for me in two law firms. The first one I didn't get but the second I did. For the last year and a half I have been working as an assistant in a law firm.

The time has now come to move on to other things. I have been offered a job in a company and will be starting shortly. Over the last 18 months I have learnt many things, not least about the work environment and culture in France.

I have now handed in my resignation. If finding work was difficult, leaving is just as difficult. Until now I had never resigned before. Jobs had always come to an end or it was understood that I wouldn't be staying long so it was ok when I left but now I have actually had to give notice and deal with my colleagues' reactions.

And so I take another step further into the working world in France in the hope that I'll not only be able to have a fulfilling life in France but a fulfilling career as well!

Lost in transition

First of all I do have to apologise for the complete lack of blogging over the last few weeks. The aim was a blog a week but it really depends on work load and/or inspiration as to what would be most interesting to blog about. New resolution, made whilst trying to get to sleep on a Sunday night (why is it that on Sunday night your brain comes alive with all the things you could do to improve your life, stops you from going to sleep as you should do for that 8.30 meeting you have on Monday, and you can never remember any of your life changing ideas when you wake up on Monday?) was that I should try and write smaller blogs and keep them light.

So, having just got back from the UK there is something I have noticed. One of the things I find most people complain about in France is that the French are rude. I've lived here for almost five years and I'm finding increasing that when I go back to the UK the Brits aren't exactly very friendly either. The French may not smile but they are at least polite and very strict about greetings and farewells. Take for example the lady who sells me my papers. I arrive in the morning grabbing the papers off the rack and folding them to try and fit into my bag. I greet her with a "Bonjour" which she replies to, then she tells me how much it is, I produce the money, she gives me the change, we exchange "merci"s and I leave saying an "au revoir et bonne journée" which she responds to with "a vous aussi". She doesn't crack a smile and we rarely have any other conversation unless there is a strike on in which case she asks which metro I'm getting and mentions something about her ride to work. The exchange is perfectly polite and friendly.

When back in the UK I find I'm almost expecting something better than this civil exchange and am very disappointed when not only do not get friendliness but all I get is "Yes please!" (i.e. next customer please) and once the monetary transaction is over there's no "bye bye and have a nice day". Not only is it not friendly (the dead beat tone of voice as I'm being served) but it lacks the politeness. Maybe it's me but I get so used to the "Bonjour Madame" when I walk into a shop here and even if they aren't always friendly there is always some kind of "merci, au revoir" and usually a "bonne soirée" or "bonne journée" depending.

On a completely other point, after almost five years of living here I still find the transition between going back to the UK and then returning to France quite difficult. I call it Harry Potter syndrome. Sometimes when I'm back in the UK all the problems of France seem so far away, like for Harry at "Hogwarts" but equally I also feel that I'm detached from all the good things here, like my life in France never existed. When I go back to the UK I slip easily into being a normal Brit. I look very English for one, I sound British and generally act like everyone else. At any moment I could return to the UK and all this time in France would just become a distance memory. What is strange however is that I have in the past felt completely isolated and alone in the UK, more so than being a foreigner in France. The thing is that in France is it clearly obvious that I am foreign and therefore not at all like any one else. When I'm back in the UK I look English but my life is not English, my daily concerns have nothing to do with the UK. I couldn't give a hoot about who is the latest Big Brother candidate to be evicted and what exactly Tony is saying to Gordon. When I get back to the UK it takes a while to settle and get back into English life, it also these days takes time for me to stop talking Franglais and form my sentences properly. But after a few days I'm fine, happy with my family, planning what to stock up on during my next shopping trip into the local town and quite happily accepting my Mum's ten-a-day cups of tea.

Then I return to France with English in my head and feeling totally British again. When I get to the airport and I start speaking French the words sound awkward and misplaced. My voice sounds unfamiliar. I'm totally detached from all my previous worries which had seemed so important to me before leaving for the UK, and it takes time to settle back in. Worryingly it sometimes takes time to settle back into being with Monsieur although more and more over the last year going to the UK without him seems wrong. Whilst I can detach myself from things here in France, being without him in the UK makes me feel like I'm missing a vital body part, but I guess that's love!

Anyway, here I am back in France again looking out the window thinking "Do I really live here?", "Is my life really in Paris?". Of course in a few days I'll be back in the swing of things huffing at the metro being packed or having to queue for food in Monoprix but right now I'm still lost in transition.

La Femme Fatale

Not that I'm going to make a habit of book reviews or anything but I would recommend the book "Two lipsticks and a lover" by Helena Frith Powell and indeed her blog which is rather entertaining. She has also posted a commentary made on it in a report in the Guardian on this image of French women.

In response to this article and Helena's book I would say that whilst I did very much enjoy Helena's book (and I generally tend to steer clear of books about the French or life in France) I do have to say that I respectfully disagree with the image she creates of French women.

I know a lot of French women. I have seen them at their youngest (when I was a teacher in a primary school), during their late teens/early twenties (when I taught at the university) and now in the work place. Whether they have lovers and indeed what exactly goes on in their bedrooms I couldn't really tell simply because even my close French friends aren't that explicit about their love lives. You can forget a Carrie-and-the-SATC-girls image of French girls all around a table at lunch talking about every detail of their love lives because in my experience, and unless I am yet to be initiated into the inner circles of girls where this in fact does go on, this just doesn't happen.

As for the lipstick part, I think that applies to older women, and even then not all of them. The women I know don't wear that much makeup. I would say that they do tend to enhance their eyes more but as for the rest of their makeup it is really barely visible. Another thing you will rarely see, in stark contrast to my last visit to the UK, is fake tans. A fake tan would stand out a mile in France. I'm not saying you won't find a few leathery looking ladies but this side of August, people aren't that tanned. Most people have olive colored skin which tans naturally and anyone who blatantly doesn't tan (i.e. moi) would look rather suspicious if sometimes they looked tanned and other times they were pale, without having the excuse of the odd weekend in St Tropez.

Not every woman that I know is gorgeously slim. Its true that there are perhaps less overweight people in France but most of them are rather normal shaped although a lot of girls I know lament the fact that they are no longer a size 38 (British 10, US 6) and that they are having trouble shifting the 5 kilos they feel they should lose.

I will say in their favour that most French women I know do dress well and pay attention to the way they look especially in the working world. That said there were a few girls I used to teach at university to whom I wanted strongly suggest the use of a hairbrush and a good conditioner every once in while! On the subject of conditioner I do find it very ironic that in the land of Laboratoire Ganier and L'Oréal, to name but a few, there is an abundance of shampoo but you can rarely find the corresponding conditioner.

French women dress safely. They wear conservative colours and tend to add a splash of colour with a scarf (that old chestnut) or some nice jewellery. A black polo neck is a wardrobe staple as it is easily chick but also because the moment the temperature drops a degree everyone must cover their necks for fear of catching cold. Anyone who has lived in France for a long time will note their tendency to buy black things, the number of black garments in my own wardrobe has certainly increased over the years. Back in the UK I noticed how many bright things there were, and whilst it was nice to see, I knew I couldn't buy such things because back in France it might look out of place.

French women like most women like clothes and take pride in what they wear. They don't all wear Chanel but they do seem to take care that they wear what suits them and it is never apparent whether what they wear is Chanel or H&M. That is another point, displaying wealth is considered vulgar. I know friends who have Yves Saint Laurent suits for example but you whist you can tell it is a good suit, it is not flaunted. One friend who I was convinced wore nothing but the most expensive clothes, told me that she always buys clothes from either H&M or Zara.

In France, it is important for a woman to be seductive. That requires paying attention to how one looks, what one wears, how one acts and what perfume one uses. It is not always about comfort either. Whilst I'm rather partial to the M&S underwear myself, I have to come to learn the value of having nice, sexy underwear to keep things interesting once in a while. Last time I was in a lingerie shop the woman behind me in the queue was holding a red lacy set and she was a slim, beautiful woman who was easily between 50 and 60, so seduction is clearly not just for the young!

It is true that, in my experience, French women are a lot more smartly dressed and you rarely see people popping out to grab a baguette in their tracksuits for example, something which I do quite often. One lazy Sunday, I had put on my tracksuit because I had no intention of doing anything particular and didn't want to have to dress up to go into town. A friend popped by my flat to see me. Seeing what I was wearing, he said "oh, have you been exercising?", and seemed bemused when I said I hadn't. I've also had some strange looks at the bakery when, again at the weekend, I have run out with freshly washed but still wet hair, a tracksuit and trainers, to grab a few morning croissants. The strange looks came from the impeccably dressed old ladies, on their way back from church, who were picking up their cakes for afternoon tea. I could never figure out whether it was because I was dressed in a tracksuit or whether I had wet hair and they were amazed that I was exposing myself to the risk of catching cold.

Comparing my French friends with my English friends would be like saying a good bottle of St Emillion is better than a fine Islay whisky (for example), the two just don't compare. I'll admit it is difficult to make female friends in France; it takes time and the right context. For instance, if you meet a female friend through a male friend don't expect her to warm to you, but if you take a class or some other social activity, you can make female friends. However, once you do make friends with this supposedly illustrious, seductive creature, you will find that French women are fun, warm, intelligent, love to laugh, generous and very loyal friends. Yes they are to be admired because they are beautiful and charming but as every self respecting French woman knows every woman has her own charm and uses it at her will, English women can be just as seductive and charming as well!

Petite Anglaise

I write as a Petite Anglaise convertee. I shall first explain how I discovered the blog of Petite Anglaise. I was browsing a French newspaper one morning when I came upon an article detailing her court case against her former employer. The article mentioned her blog and being very bored at the time, I immediately looked it up. I have to say the synopsis did not impress me much - English secretary, with partner for eight years, has a child, leaves partner for man she met on blog and (at the time I started reading) had recently been fired and also dumped by "Lover". Bloody great, I thought, what did she go and mess it up for? Admittedly this was more a reflection on myself, my own hopes and dreams about establishing my life in France, rather than a personal attack on Petite. You see, whilst I wasn't always a Francophile, since moving here in 2003 I have fallen in love with the country, and later in love with a Frenchman, and I was at the point in my relationship when I was very much wondering whether it would all work and whether love and a lasting relationship was possible between a French person and an English person or could love not survive the cultural differences. In a way I resented Petite for proving that such a relationship could not work (again, my fault not hers). I then started reading all her blog entries from the beginning to find out what on earth had happened. I have to say that through reading the blog I was converted into being a modest Petite Anglaise fan and I thoroughly enjoyed her accounts of Paris and her writing style. I will even admit that the Petite Anglaise site was one of the main reasons for this blog, although I wanted to blog just to express my opinion and had no intention of revealing so much personal details. Anyway having read the blog I wanted to read the book to find out what exactly was the story behind the blog.

I did enjoy the book on the whole. The first few chapters I felt that Catherine's usual writing style had clearly been jazzed up (somewhat necessarily) by the over use of a thesaurus but as the story got going, her natural narrative style appeared and I did enjoy the rest of the book.

Like other blog readers I was somewhat disappointed that the book did not go on to reveal the inside story as to what happened when she was fired and what has happened since but I appreciate that at the time of writing she wanted to end the book on a positive note and therefore I think it was well done.

There have been those who have judged the book for showing a rather superficial, selfish, immature character. At one point I have to say that I myself did cringe at some points thinking "How can a 34 year old be so naïve?" but I corrected my own judgment by reasoning that in fact age does not equal wisdom and only life experience teaches you what decisions to make later on. Yes it is easy to judge those who have cheated on a partner and/or left them, but the old proverb of "don’t judge a person until you have walked a mile in their shoes" applies in such a situation, and in light of my own experiences it is easier to judge how Catherine should have acted but it is only by living those experiences that you learn the hard lessons.

The truth is in writing the book Catherine has laid bare parts of her real life and therefore laid her life and not just her writing open to judgment from anyone and everyone. As I continue to read the blog it would appear that Catherine/Petite and her fans react very aggressively to the slightest criticism made by commentators or those who have written reviews on Amazon and I think Catherine should be a bit more thick skinned. Easier to say if you haven't written a book I suppose but even so, given the thousands of adoring fans which log onto to Petite's website everyday, it is my opinion that she should be proud of what she has achieved, be pleased with all this support, take the constructive criticism on the nose as it is intended and ignore the other vicious criticisms. But that said, once again, I am judging Catherine's reactions by what I myself have learnt from life - easy to say, not so easy to take on board!

So I would advise anyone who is wondering about life in France to read Catherine's blog and book, they are both enjoyable reads and I look forward to Catherine's next book when, hopefully, she will truly establish herself as a writer.

Joy and praise

The time is soon approaching for our yearly appraisals at work. I'm not too apprehensive, however as feedback is necessary and generally constructive. Nonetheless, now that I work in an office, I often think back on my first work appraisals - when I taught in the schools.

Anyone who has taught knows how incredibly rewarding it is to be a teacher and see the your students achieve something and know that you have had something to do with it. That said, children can also be very unforgiving and never happy with the work you have given to them, and which you have tried to make it as interesting as possible. There are some who will be glad of the work you have spent hours preparing and others who at the end of the day will say that they weren't happy with one thing or another. Three years of teaching both children and students taught me that you can never please everyone.

One particular incident comes to mind when it comes to talking about being evaluated in ones work. When I was teaching the children, although I knew they had had at least one other English/American teacher before me, they seemed to have forgotten what they had been taught. I found out from the children that their last teacher was called Mary-Ann and that she was American. One day, when I was going through basic greetings, I said to them "oh you must know how to reply to the question "How are you?". Was it not one of the things Mary-Ann taught you last year?". Some of the children looked rather blank and others shook their heads vehemently. One girl piped up "No! Mary-Anne didn't teach us anything, she just re-applied her make-up and made us smell her feet".
"Oh really?" I said, more than mildly skeptical about these accusations.
"Yes" said the girl earnestly, and cupping her hand in front of her face as if she was holding a compact make-up mirror, she continued, "She used to stop in the middle of the teaching and check her eye make-up, and other times she would put her foot up on the table and make us smell her feet and then she would count her toes". Ah this explained it a little. I found it funny how the girl had interpreted the teacher's actions. I made a mental note to myself to check my make-up before entering the school and when teaching them how to count, to stick to using my fingers! I often worried given that after a year of being taught by her, all these children would remember of Mary-Ann was how she used to check her make-up (or most probably had a problem with a contact lens) or once tried to teach them how to count by pointing out that she had ten toes as well as ten fingers. I knew I was far from a perfect teacher and had no doubt that whatever I did these children would tell some wildly exaggerated story about how I taught to the next teacher.

I turned out that I needn't have worried. A year later I was having drinks with some friends when a friend of a friend came to join us and was introduced to me. "Pierre teaches English in the school near La Victoire", Jack said. Pierre was French and had lived in the US for several years, having returned to France to qualify as a teacher he now taught English. "Oh, I know the one, I used to work there, my name is Rose" I said.
"Rose?" said Pierre, "so you're Rose?"
"Yes" I said feeling slightly apprehensive, "why, what have they said about me?"
"Oh no nothing bad, they love you!! I was once teaching them about the magic e – the fact that putting an e at the end of certain words changes the sound – and drew a flower and pointed out that you don't pronounce it 'Roz' you pronounce it 'Rose'. Then upon hearing the word the children said "Rose, like Rose". "Yes" I said, "the flower", to which they replied that it was not only a flower but that they had had a teacher called Rose. When I asked what you were like they said how nice you were and then started chanting some song you had taught them". Pierre then hummed the tune of the song.
"They said I was nice?" I said, still unconvinced, "they didn't say anything about me making them do horrible things, or, any other strange criticisms?"
"Oh no! One girl did mention something about a certain Mary-Ann however".
I rolled my eyes and smiled and told him about what the children had said about Mary-Ann.

Phew! Not only had I escaped being remembered as some ugly witch with strange teaching methods but on top of that they had remembered the song I had taught them on expressing how they were feeling (happy, sad, tired, good etc.). They may have forgotten everything else I had ever taught them and claim total ignorance as regards being able to speak English but at least they had remembered something!