One of my favourites is ‘bonne continuation’, a formal way of wishing someone luck and happiness with whatever they’re up to when you leave them. A taxi driver might say it, or someone you’ve been talking to on the bus. I’ve often wished I could walk in accidentally on two people making love, just so that I could discreetly close the door again, leaving them with a polite ‘bonne continuation’.
When you’re out in the evening, the whole Japanese-tea-ceremony side of French life comes into play again. Anyone you meet will need a ‘bonsoir’ (unless you’re on ‘salut’ terms, of course), and if you part company, they’ll need a ‘bonne soirée’.
When saying goodbye after an aperitif, restaurant, film or some other event that might not be the end of the ‘soirée’, people usually wish each other ‘bonne fin de soirée’. It is quite chic to do this late on in the evening because it implies that you, and the recipient of the farewell, are night owls and probably off to some late-night champagne celebration.
It’s important to bear in mind that anyone saying ‘bonne nuit’ (goodnight) before they are actually heading towards their bedroom will be laughed at. Though after a day of remembering how to greet people, you might feel that bedtime can’t come soon enough.
What’s the Délai?
In France, a woman can – or rather should – be late for any kind of rendezvous, otherwise the man will think that she’s too easy. It also avoids the embarrassment of turning up on time and seeing that the man is late. These days it is usual for a man to send a text message saying that he’ll be a few minutes late. This is not only polite, it also helps him to find out exactly how late the woman is going to be.
In business, being late is less a form of impoliteness than a way of showing how special you are. If you do any business in French, when you first learn that the French for ‘deadline’ is ‘délai’, you laugh. The joke soon wears thin, though, when you realize that they’re just being honest.
How late you are for a meeting is a measure of your importance. If you arrive on time, it probably means that you haven’t just left a previous meeting, which suggests in turn that no one is interested in your opinions. Basically, get there ‘à l’heure’ and you’re a nobody.
I’ve sometimes found that your ‘right to lateness’ is in proportion to the size of the diary you lug around with you. People may even snub electronic diaries in favour of a huge appointment diary, the implication being that an electronic one is physically not big enough to contain all their appointments.
There are, of course, limits to lateness. In my experience of dealing with the French, a boss can get away with strolling into a meeting twenty minutes late, smiling and apologizing hypocritically for their retard. Lower ranks – the cattle of the meeting – should be there about five minutes late, preferably armed with a coffee so as to fill the time before the decision-maker arrives, and to make sure they get enough caffeine into their system to stay awake during the interminable discussions that are about 36 to begin.
However, if you have an appointment with anyone who holds your fate in their hands – a doctor, say, or a solicitor, bank manager, estate agent or absolutely anyone working for the state – be there on time. They can be late, because they’re important, but if you dare to do the same you’re implying that they’re not important, and your fate is sealed.
Do the Write Thing
Letter-writing in French is another of those skills that makes you feel as though you’ve been transported back in time to the court of Louis XIV. Instead of neat sign-offs like ‘Yours faithfully’, the French use endings that can take as long to write as the letter itself.
The opening to a formal letter can be very simple – you write just ‘Monsieur’ to a man and ‘Madame’ to a woman, or ‘Madame, Monsieur’, if you’re not sure who’ll be reading it – but your farewell takes for ever. Even if you have met the recipient and named them at the beginning of the letter, you have to sign off with something like ‘Veuillez agréer, Madame, l’expression de mes salutations distinguées’ – ‘Please allow me to express my distinguished salutations’ – or ‘Je vous prie de croire, Madame, Monsieur, à l’assurance de mes sentiments respectueux’ – ‘I ask you to believe in the guarantee of my respectful sentiments.’
You can almost see the writer bowing and scraping as they thank the recipient of the letter for deigning to give attention to their worthless cause. Presumably this is a hang-up from having to write to implacable administrative offices begging for your case to be heard, because the subliminal message seems to be that even if the recipient ignores your request or continues to screw up your life, they are still sure of your distinguished sentiments of guaranteed respect.
Thankfully, things are getting very slightly less formal, so if you’ve had a few dealings with someone – say an estate agent with whom you’re sorting out a house purchase – you can end a letter ‘Bien à vous’ or, even less formally, ‘Cordialement’.
In any case, these days, I’m pretty sure that no one actually reads those long formal endings any more. If you get really fed up with someone in an official position, you’re probably safe writing ‘Veuillez agréer, Monsieur, l’expression de mes détestations irrespectueuses.’ Probably.
What’s in a Nom?
The French claim to have killed off their aristos, but it’s just not true. The society mags are still full of pictures of unnaturally tanned people called the Baron de this and the Comtesse de that, all of whom will expect to be grovelled to.
The de prefix before a
