The Possibilities of ‘Non’ and the Limitations of ‘Yes’

I always tell my students that a ‘no’ in France does not necessarily signal the end of the discussion, but often the beginning. Last summer, my daughter was trying to organize an internship in France through a family friend. The phone conversation went like this, “You’re a minor and it’s not easy. There would be problems with liability. The work site is dangerous. You could blow something up, get hurt and then what? Your mother is American, your parents would probably sue us. The directrice says if we make an exception this time, it will open the floodgates to other young interns. You see the difficulty, right?” I watched her shoulders sag as she punctuated each rejection with murmurs of “Oui, Oui. Non, I understand. Bien sur.” She’s a bicultural kid and even if she wasn’t conscious of her actions, her strategy was perfect. She listened, she was polite and she waited. She let him talk and just as she was about to thank him for his time and to hang up, she heard, “Alors, on se voit demain matin à 8h30 ?” So, see you tomorrow morning at 8:30?

She went on to have an extraordinary experience that has set her on a completely different path. Her presence was unofficial, known to everyone, including the directrice, but sous le radar. At lunch one day, the director caught a glimpse of her and asked her sponsor if that was l’américaine they had discussed the month before. I think the answer was a clin d’oeil, a wink, and something along the lines of I don’t know what you’re talking about.

There were three components to this successful outcome. First of all, that the internship even happened was in large part due to a personal connection. Secondly, she listened to the objections being laid out and instead of ending the conversation, she agreed with her sponsor as he enumerated the ways in which the whole endeavor was problematic. Then she waited, and got to the yes. Finally, she understood that permission was contingent on her discretion. 

Sois discrète. Be discreet. Tu vas te faire remarquer. You’re going to attract attention. These are words that French children hear constantly. In American culture, we teach children to be proud of their accomplishments and to consider themselves unique and valuable. French children are taught to watch and listen. The idea that a child might have valuable input is laughable. What the French would consider boorish boasting, Americans think of as essential to success.  

Six months later, my daughter is organizing a similar internship in the US. Since she has no personal connections, she sends out a dozen requests. The first rejecter, who is German, tells her that he is unavailable and suggests she might have more luck if she can seek out a family friend or other such contact in the field. The second email, from an American, is a yes. Wow. Euphoria in the household! But wait, careful reading of the email and the several more that soon follow, reveal that the resounding ‘yes’, is actually more of a ‘yes, but’. Yes, you can do an internship with us, but you need to find a sponsor within the organization, provide certification (what certification does a high schooler have?), prepare a proposal and organize a meeting with your teacher and the institution (Really? Yikes!). So, she’s writing emails, sending her resume, researching the organization, detailing her goals and objectives, and generally demonstrating her commitment to the endeavor.

It’s not that personal connections aren’t helpful in the US. Of course they are. In fact, her teacher, having a better idea of the type of project she’s interested in, has offered a connection of her own, in addition, or instead of her current prospect if it doesn’t work out. Getting to yes in the US often involves a self-promotional approach and demonstration of commitment in ways that might be considered over-reaching, or to use my mother-in-law’s term, ‘uppity’, in France.

A related topic, which deserves its own post, is how French and Americans differ in how they access information. I think it will have to be written with Emily Seftel, an American in Paris who writes a column here, and as a logistics magicienne has spent several years studying just this.