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.

Tout est Grand en Amérique and other French stereotypes about America

Recently I was in New York and was struck by the amount of French I heard on the street. It seemed that I could not walk a block in Manhattan or Brooklyn without hearing my adopted language – small family groups of French tourists, students studying English, and some who probably lived in New York. For all that we hear that the French don't like Americans, they do love visiting the U.S. Last week we had the opportunity to see San Diego through the eyes of a young French friend visiting from Paris who reminded me of some things about America that fascinate the French. 

1. Tout est grand en Amérique.

Home theater

© lajollahomeaudio.com

The first impression upon arriving in California is that everything is big. Leslie noted that the footprint of her Parisian middle school/high school would fit entirely on the local high school’s Lacrosse field and that the wrap around parking lot covered about the same acreage as the school itself. It's not only the spaces that are big, the buildings at a local outlet mall have enormous facades equivalent to an extra story or two, while the shops themselves have only one level. There's no need to go to Disneyland when some homes are literally the size of a Paris building that might house ten to twelve families, and unlike the rambling and somewhat run-down historic properties where some French families gather for vacations, every square foot of these homes is designer decorated and tricked out with the latest cinematic wonders, professional laundering facilities and kitchens worthy of a cooking school (with enough microwaves to cater to the family’s needs). When European friends visit us in our condo they marvel at the high ceilings and spaciousness of the unit – all 1400 square feet.

The list of 'big' things is endless - cars, portions, hard-cover books, grocery carts, the Sunday paper, university campuses, closets, dog beds, kitchens. The French marvel at the unnecessary super-sizing of America in every domain possible. They are fascinated by the extravagant gaspillage, or waste, of space. The fact that everything is ‘comme à la télé’, ‘just like on TV’ only enhances the sense of detachment from reality. Dépaysement literally means a change of scenery and in the positive sense can suggest exotic new surroundings, or in its negative connotation, a sense of disorientation. The French are great travelers and they seek out the differences in cultures and enjoy that sense of losing their normal bearings. C’était bien dépaysant, it was a great change of scenery, is a positive outcome. They enjoy the thrill of experiencing things that are different.

2. L’embarras du choix.

If one American ideal is spaciousness, another is individual choice. In American society, there is always a wide range of choice or l’embarras du choix (similar to the English ‘embarrassment of riches’). It is perfectly normal for a supermarket to offer a 'selection' of dozens of breakfast cereals in various permutations, including breakfast and snack bar versions; several brands of 'fresh' orange juice each offering the full range of no pulp, low pulp, and calcium fortified options. There are three kinds of unleaded gas. If you want to mail a letter, there is the US Postal Service, or any number of private mail centers. Something as simple as purchasing a pair of jeans requires that you choose a height, a length, a leg shape, and a hip shape. This is local exoticism at its best. 

3. The secret penchant for la Malbouffe

School “lunch”

© 2012 K-Rae Nelson

When in France, French people might rail against le fast food and la malbouffe, unhealthy food, or bad grub, when in America they almost always want to taste the real McCoy.  Hot dogs, hamburgers, milkshakes, pancakes, burritos, nachos (all right, maybe they’ll draw the line at ball park nachos) – they want to taste it all, and they may even want to take some goodies home. The convenience of organic pancake batter in a whipped cream canister is the epitomy of American ingenuity. It’s hard to overestimate the fascination that people have with the American way of life with respect to fast food. Compared to the French, Americans really do indiscriminately eat n’importe quoi, n’importe comment et n’importe quand , anything, anyhow and anywhere. When I went to the grocery store with Leslie, she stopped short at the sight of the large grocery cart. “Quoi? Non, c’est pas possible.” “What, no, it can’t be. A cup holder built into the grocery cart?” In Whole Foods we saw the perfect illustration of the local fauna. A man pushing a cart with one hand, holding a coffee in a to go cup in the other, his toddler son sitting in the grocery cart with the quilty hygienic cover thing, holding his own drink in one hand and his collapsible snack bowl in the other.

If you want to give your French visitors an experience to remember, dépaysement assuré, take them to a big chain supermarket, a 50s style diner with jukeboxes at the table, and try to finagle an invitation to a local McMansion tract home. And if you can throw in a shark attack, you’re the bomb. 

© 2012 K-Rae Nelson