Throughout my travels, I’ve constantly been warned that the French are the most rude people in Europe. Especially in Paris, I was told that service is terrible and that they will ignore you until they have no other choice; until you’re kicking and screaming shouting out for service. They are said to be dismissive and unpleasant in all forms of the word and, on my train to Paris from London, I prepared for the worst.

The first morning I left the apartment of my American friend to explore the city. I avoided as much human contact as possible, not wishing to cause a potentially embarrassing disruption (my greatest flaw!), making it all the way from La Defense, the financial area just outside the historic city center, around the Eiffel tower, and to a small cafe underneath it’s shadow. This cafe was filled with tourists and Parisians alike. I knew I had no chance but to sit and prepare for an extended wait.

I sat outside on a little wicker chair as one does when they are in Paris, lighting a cigarette and assuming I’d be ignored three or four times before even ordering my coffee, at which point the waiter would notice my unimpressive French vocabulary and dismiss me altogether.

He walked by, turned and looked at me, and I smiled. It was a warm and understanding smile meant to greet and acknowledge the existence of two humans in a very large world. For anyone that’s trained with me under Art Of The Playboy, you’ll recognize this as one of the foundations of giving value; acknowledging this human being and immediately transmitting respect, regardless of race, religion, color, or class.

He stopped and immediately spun around, standing in front of my table. He did not smile, but he quickly spoke something in French. It was obviously something to the degree of “Hello sir, welcome to the cafe. Can I get you a drink?” but my brain (and it’s aforementioned limited French) heard something like this:

“LKSJBD:BFJSS:DD:KSJLD:WLKDJ:WFJLBWDJWHD?”

Since it was clearly a question, I assumed he was asking what I’d like, so I ordered a coffee (“Un cafe, merci.”) and I did it quickly. Why did I do it quickly? Again, if you have studied with me under AOTP, you’ll recognize these next principles.

When interacting with anyone new, the series of steps that must be followed in order to create a bond (however temporary), are thus: Calibrate, Give Value, Connect.

When I first sat down, I took a brief register of him and the situation at hand. This was a waiter in a major tourist area – it can be quickly decided that he deals with a lot of stressful cases; people that don’t speak the language (most of whom are indignant, of course), people that are only there to sit down because they’ve been walking around seeing sights all day (who never know what they want to order, focusing only on getting off their feet), large families, etc. I saw that it was busy and he was dealing with these cases all at once (it should also be noted that there is almost always a direct correlation between the ratio of staff to patrons and how short a waiter will be with you, as he needs to move quickly and pleasantries are the first to be spared), so I knew that if I gave him my order as quickly as possible, not only would he be able to attend to his other tables/duties quickly, but that he would now put me into the loose category that most waiters and waitresses have called “Customers that aren’t a pain in the ass.” This will get me served more quickly.

I was right, after a few stops at other customers (next time, take a look at how many tables a waiter is serving before you complain that your cheeseburger hasn’t arrived 4 minutes after you ordered it), he returned with my coffee and said another jumble of French which I assumed correctly to be “And would you like anything to eat?”. This time, he said it with a slight smile, we were getting somewhere.

At this point I have done two important things; I have calibrated my actions and demeanor to the situation – which is most closely related to metaprograms and aligning realities (more on that in the future) – and I have given value in a small way by choosing to allow my presence not to be a burden to him. Keep in mind that this is not altruism, as I’m achieving my goal more effectively with this method and that’s why I’m doing it.
Untimely or premature ejaculation is often considered as tadalafil viagra http://amerikabulteni.com/2012/01/30/sizce-abdnin-en-gorgusuz-sehri-hangisi/ being foreplay. One should get this drug after consulting with canadian levitra online your doctor. At times, there are structural problems like small size of sexual organs is a fairly cheapest price for levitra amerikabulteni.com common problem in men. You must choose your medicine wisely so that you will enjoy the durable buy sildenafil online sex time for utmost enjoyment.
Moving forward, I will give more value, each time calibrating to the situation. When he smiles, I make a bit of a self-deprecating joke about my ability to speak French. He smiles. When he quickly brings me my food, I tell him it’s nice to see him again, and that it’s been too long. I ask him how are the wife and kids. He laughs. Now, he is regularly stopping by and checking on me (as I did sit there for quite a long time). He even comes so far as to ask me how long I’m staying in Paris and if I had come just for the tourism.

Wait. Aren’t the French supposed to be rude?

As I’m sitting in the outside corner, wishing I was closer to a heat lamp, I watch my waiter jumping between tables. His facial expression changes from bubbly friend at my table, to cold and dismissive food-mechanic at the others and I wonder why (for the sake of this article). Then, I see his patrons, of which I’ll only describe one group, as you’ll quickly understand my point.

His table at the other side of the patio is a group of fat, American tourists.Two kids, Two men, three women. Covered in sportswear and denim, they still have cameras around their necks and their kids are literally hitting each other. I am not making this up. They are waving their hands for him, though I am fairly certain he was just at their table two minutes ago. With my heightened social experience and intimate knowledge of the communication spectrum, I make out that the larger of the two men of the table is mouthing “ketchup” and making a gesture that looks almost rude, as if to signify he would like some ketchup to put on his French fries that he was eating in France that he couldn’t wait to tell the boys at work about.

The family was a stereotype. They were speaking to the waiter (who did speak English quite well, as a matter of fact) in what can only be described as how you think someone would speak to a deaf person, the wide-eyed look of ‘ARE YOU UNDERSTANDING ME??‘ getting more and more prominent with every word. Most of them were even leaning in towards him as they spoke, despite the unnecessary volume.

It reminded me of a scene in the Ridley Scott movie ‘A Good Year‘ where an American couple is dining at a restaurant in Provence and she orders a salad “NEE-SWAH-ZAY” with “Low-cal” ranch and bacon bits and he orders a double mai tai. Ugh. The waiter was clearly tired of this.

But, let’s change positions. Imagine going to a restaurant in California or Massachusetts or someplace in the US and you start speaking French to the waiter. He probably would have no idea what you’re saying or why you’re speaking in French. Now, let’s say you were shouting at him, annoyed that he didn’t speak French (why?) and demanding to understand why the regional dish where you’re from (not where you ARE) isn’t on the menu. Chances are, if you’re lucky, he’s not even annoyed with you, he’ll just be as focused as possible, trying to get your order as correct as possible so that you’ll tip him properly (which, of course you don’t – nor does anyone from your country, because you didn’t bother to google “Do they tip in Los Angeles?” before coming). Then, of course, since he didn’t smile at you unrelentingly, you’re assuming he’s a jerk and that dictates your further actions, which dictate the way he responds to you for the rest of the meal. No, the French are not rude. You are rude and they are rude back.

It is so frustrating to me that people can go to a bar or a restaurant (or any place, really), treat someone like dirt and then wonder why they aren’t being excessively kind in return. Waiters, bartenders, doormen, and taxi drivers are all human beings, just as you are, and they will respond to the same emotions you do. Assume there is a respect avalanche, but simply that you are the one that has to start it.

The waiter tromps off from those idiots to return to my table, instantly smiling warmly when he sees me. I give a sideways glance to the infamous table and give the old “I understand those people are retarded and I’m sorry.” look. He grins, understanding, and the two of us have completed the third step: We’ve connected. Not in a serious or weighty or ever-present or romantic way, but I have done what I set out to do: I separated myself from the rest of the group. Calibrate, Give Value, Connect.

In this small, mundane activity of eating lunch, I have made a spot in this person’s life, however tiny my involvement with him may be. I am certain that, if nothing else, I have made the time at work he had to spend with me better than the time he will have to spend with all of his other customers. I have changed his life for the better by being myself and by wanting to do it. It took no more effort than it would to be rude, but we both benefitted from it by leaps and bounds. I encourage you to do the same at every opportunity you can – and there are MANY, simply look around at all the people you interact with on a daily basis.

As I left, I thanked him, looked him in the eye, and shook his hand. I even left him a tip. Maybe he’ll give it to someone you know when he visits the United States.