I’ve brought this subject up before, certainly in conversation amongst some of you who know me better, and it is something that grates me considerably, especially in the light of the situation I am about to describe.

I fully appreciate the given notion that as a customer one should expect to receive fair exchange for one’s hard-earned money but I utterly reject this imported American principle that the customer is always right. Bollocks! The customer is often wrong. Moreover, the customer is often rude, unreasonable and inflexible and this current accepted principle where the provider of a product or service is expected and obliged to accommodate the demands of a customer for fear of losing custom or denting their reputation is wrong and slanted and warped in my opinion. In the sort of egalitarian society that we aspire to in the Western World it is wrong that someone should be made to feel like the servant of another. An exchange of goods or services is exactly that: an exchange. I have something that you want, you are prepared to give me something for it in return. By its very definition it is a meeting of equals. To empower one over the other, as a result of some form of social convention, is to warp the interaction and opens it up to various forms of abuse. Whatever it is that I have and that you need, it strikes me that it is in your interest to want to help me help you better, and this sort of reciprocal mechanism can only be beneficial to both parties. With this I am heading towards the unfashionable topic regarding manners.

A friend of mine once asked me why I was thanking – with a gesture of my hand – the driver of the car that had stopped to let us cross the road at the pedestrian crossing in front of our office. It’s his obligation to stop, was what Mario inferred.

“Et bain, parce que je trouve que c’est plus agréable….pour tout le monde… non?” 

He acknowledged my retort with a gallic shrug and an even more gallic pout. At best he must have thought my gesture redundant. I disagree. I have always found that a sincere acknowledgement of another’s efforts to accommodate us – however small and apparently insignificant – with a liberal use of “please” and “thanks” goes much further towards advancing our common best interests than standing on our perceived rights with defiance. Call me over-polite if you want but I believe manners are a useful social lubricant… and I stand by this.

I have lived in France as a child, I understand their culture and manner quite well and moreover – and here I assume my right to say this without any intended arrogance –  I speak their language pretty fucking well for a non-native; it goes without saying that I love France and the French very much. For this reason I stand by my right to have a go at an aspect of French culture that I find less appealing. Whilst I understand their very ingrained and vibrant culture of complaint and affirmation of their rights, their manner is often imperative and confrontational when a softer, politer more conciliatory approach would serve them better in my view. I have worked with and for the French a fair amount over the years so I can say this with authority. Today I felt ashamed for them, as I witnessed a French tourist wipe the floor with the waitress in a restaurant.

Assuming that the woman was right to voice a valid complaint, it was the manner in which she did it that bothered me so much. Here was this sweaty gammon of a woman, quite beside herself, shrieking at the waitress in French without so much as attempting a broken frase in Spanish that might explain her indignation a little better; Madame La Merde frothing at the mouth as she spat out her disgust and demanding her money back and little Montse stammering in reply as best she could. It was clear that, other than the angst being spattered all over the rest of us who were present, neither of the two could understand each other and for a moment I felt like intervening, if anything to hasten the inevitable end to this sorry scene and save the girl from a prolonged assault. I didn’t. Madame made herself understood, was reimbursed her money and charged out of the place – huffing and puffing –  with her sweaty family in tow. Silly bitch; there was no need for that. Un poquito más de pr favor, no?