It’s the final crunch of the semester, and I’ve been in massive need of caffeine. This morning I made a quick trip to a little boulangerie down the street from me for a cup of coffee. There was a rather long line, as is typical of this particular place, and the man in front of me kept impatiently jiggling his leg as the queue inched forward.
“Une baguette,” he said brusquely when he arrived at the cash register.
The woman behind the counter raised her eyebrows. “Mais, bonjour, quand même!” she said in a loud bark. (The sentiment of, “Say hello, at least!”)
The man quailed a little under her glare, meekly mumbled “Bonjour, madame” and then repeated his request for a baguette. She gave it to him begrudgingly, muttering “This isn’t Starbucks here” in French loudly enough for all of us to hear as she slid the bread into a paper sack. He practically fled from the boulangerie, not meeting anyone’s eyes. I didn’t feel too sorry for him. He was French; he should have known better.
One of the biggest compliments in France is to say someone is bien élevé. It has to do with manners and a good upbringing, but also encompasses all sorts of social graces. The opposite could probably be most closely translated as a mixture of rude and ignorant, and sometimes takes on more political undertones: while our current president coined the term “Axis of Evil,” Jacques Chirac called enemy countries mal élevés. Grumble as you will about slow service in Parisian restaurants, the French take their politesse extremely seriously.
So when I finally stepped up to the counter, I put on my friendliest smile and launched into the polite formula I’ve been using without a second thought whenever I order anything in French.
“Bonjour, madame. Je voudrais un grand crème, s’il vous plait. Merci! Bonne journée!”
She smiled at me serenely as she handed me my drink.
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