After you live abroad for a while you start to realize it really isn't that big of a deal if you know every word in the foreign language you are speaking. I remember my French teacher in high school saying to us that it isn't always important to know the all the words but to be able to explain yourself clearly (Merci, M. Brown!) . I can attest that I use this piece of advice everyday.
I headed to Go Sports today in search of a podometer. Even in English I didn't know the word was for this thing. Why? No idea. Anyway, I walked around with the sales guy from Go Sports explaining what I was looking for. It's a thing that counts your steps, you attach it.... blah, blah, blah.... And after searching the entire store he finally found one for me. With a huge sigh of annoyance he handed it over and then he pursed his lips and looked at me kind sideways and asked how I could speak French so well but didn't know the word for a podometer? I just smiled. And then he added, now you know the word and you can ask for it directly without giving me dissertation on what a podometer does*. Ah, Mr. Brown... you would be so proud of me.
*please note that even if I knew the word, I'd still get the annoying sigh from the sales guy. I annoy them, they annoy me, this is French customer service at its best!
Hi there! I found your blog through Ravelry - you're a great knitter and I really admired the child's placket neck sweaters you made for your baby.
I decided to read along with your blog. Good luck with the muffin top extermination.
Posted by: Smokey | January 29, 2008 at 20:41
Typical of the sales guy... instead of feeling proud or relieved that he was able to get you what you wanted, he was annoyed because you forced him to actually do some WORK for all of 15 flipping minutes, when he would have probably preferred to be doing something less taxing. Like going outside to smoke or send an SMS to his girlfriend.
Brava, you!
Posted by: The Bold Soul | January 29, 2008 at 22:37
I just got a free pedometer today!! (BTW, a podometer measure pressure under your foot, a pedometer the # of steps you take. Thank you Wikipedia!).
I know what you mean about sales people... Service in France does not come with the professional fake american smile, that's for sure. But can I grumble about the fact that americans can work before the age of 18? If I have to deal with another 16 yr old who won't even go look for an item sold in the store, I think I'll scream. Or even better, a teen who will continue typing a freaking text message as I'm speaking to them! *sigh*
Posted by: Veronique | January 29, 2008 at 22:45
I do that too! Once I told a big rambling description of a stovetop kettle - it gets the message across eventually. Sorry about the cranky sales guy :)
Posted by: Penny | January 30, 2008 at 08:40
the sales guys I hate in France? The couch sellers. You go into a couch store and you get a used car salesman type, who won't let you go. For life or money. Well maybe money. And then, when you leave without buying anything, you get a rude send off. As if dropping 2500 Euros was a no brainer!
Posted by: jennifer | February 04, 2008 at 14:45