February 6, 2010

On Language (With Thanks to the Late Great William Safire)


The French language is beautiful and complex, not unlike the French themselves. If you try to translate directly from English, you can get yourself into deep trouble. For example, the word for lawyer is "avocat." Unfortunately, this is also the word for avocado.

The word for new is "neuf," yet this can also mean "nine."

So, if you find yourself in prison because, say, your old school refused to refund your tuition and threatened to sue you for libel if you told anyone how your children were treated, prompting you to toss the school's lawyer through a plate glass window (all of this is hypothetical, of course, I'm just saying "if") and if your court-appointed lawyer has a head shaped like a bullet, and is wearing a suit that is two sizes too small, revealing exceptionally hairy wrists, and if you ask for a new lawyer, you could very well end up with nine avocados. Not that this would ever happen. I'm just saying.

More interesting still is the appropriate translation of the verb "to wait." There are two common translations of this verb: "attendre" and "patienter." The verb "attendre" means to anticipate, to expect, or both: to wait with the expectation that something will happen. "Patienter" means, simply, to wait; the implication is that you will wait patiently without expecting any results. So, which one should you use? Well, your overwhelming temptation will probably be to use "attendre," as in "I'm waiting for a table," or "I'm waiting for my money." After all, you do expect your request to be met. However, if you use this translation you will probably be unsuccessful obtaining either. You have, you see, committed the fatal mistake of suggesting that you expect your wish to be fulfilled. Service people in France invariably use "patienter" when asking you to wait. What they are saying, in essence, is that you need to wait without any expectations and they will decide whether to grant you a table, your money, etc. Even the ATM machines ask you to "patienter" instead of "attendre." Once you accept this, and expunge the verb "attendre" from your conversations with anyone but small children or recalcitrant dogs, you will be treated with much greater respect.

Which brings me to conversations with shopkeepers. You may think you can walk into a store, ask for 2 croissants, pay for them, and leave. You can do this, but you will surely get the very worst croissants, be scowled at, and generally treated like the crass foreigner you are. Every transaction is part of a larger conversation. Let me demonstrate.

"Good morning, Madame."

"Good morning, Madame."

"How are you today? I trust all is well?"

"Yes, I am doing very well, thank you."

"It is quite cold, today, is it not?"

"Yes, but in any case, it is winter."

"Ah, yes, you are right, it is indeed winter."

"So, naturally it is cold."

"Because it is winter."

"Yes, that is right,"

"Is there anything I can help you with today?"

"Yes, thank you, I would like four croissants."

"You would like four croissants?"

"Yes, four croissants."

"Well, let me see, ah, yes, four croissants. One, two, three, four. Here you are. Four croissants, Madame. Please take them."

"Thank you very much. How much?"

"For four croissants?"

"Yes, how much for four croissants?"

"Let me see, four croissants. Eighty, one-sixty, two-forty, three-twenty. Three-twenty for four croissants, Madame."

"Here you are."

"Three-twenty for four croissants. That is correct. Thank you Madame. Have a good rest of the day. But be careful, it is quite cold."

"Because it is winter."

"Exactly. Because it is winter."


As you can imagine, if you don't know what you want, the simple act of acquiring fresh breads for breakfast could stretch well into lunchtime.

Now, you might try to get around this conversation inflation by ordering ten or twelve croissants at a time. In economics terms, spread the conversation fixed cost over more croissants (variable cost), thereby increasing the efficiency of the process. Nice try, genius. Now you look like a gluttonous cretin who doesn't appreciate fresh bread. You'll never be served.