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A Survival Guide to the Parisian Workplace


On the eve of the French government’s closure of all non-essential establishments in the capital, I sat at a bistro on the corner of a busy 9th arrondissement boulevard eating a tuna steak with a glass of Brouilly. It was a delicious dinner and a delightful way to end my seven months in Paris which I had spent working in the Parisian branch of a large international firm. I learnt the most enormous amount about Paris and the French working culture which, to my surprise, is quite substantially different from how I’ve previously found English office culture.


Alors, here are a few of my top tips to survive the daily “metro, boulot, dodo” lifestyle in a Parisian office.


First off, when you arrive in the morning and before you settle into your desk with a black coffee and a croissant (no other breakfast foods are acceptable), you must greet every single person you walk past on your way in. Variations on salut, ça va?, and bonjour are all used to fulfill the first of your daily obligations and in general, the response to all of them is a polite nod of the head and a weak smile (very French).


The most shocking thing for me when arriving in Paris was how early everyone eats. The stereotype of continentals only settling down to eat at two o’clock was a stark contrast to the hordes of hungry workers filling the streets at 12:30. The lunch break in my office lasted for an hour and a half which was glorious; you would go and fetch something from one of the nearby traiteurs and return to sit in the kitchen to chat and be judged by your food choices.


Another French custom which took me by surprise was the complexity surrounding the phrase Bon Appetit. I was told early on by a chic French friend of mine that it was seen as naff to say in polite company, a view which was corroborated by certain co-workers. In the office, however, every man and his dog would walk past your table and wish you well with your meal. I decided in the end, as with many cultural issues, to wait and follow the lead of those around me.


Sneezing is something of a fact of life. During the worst of the Parisian winter flu season (early January) sitting at my desk felt a little like one of those nightmares of being stuck on a plane or train surrounded by flu-ridden passengers. I switched onto WordReference, typed in ‘bless you’ into the translator, and began to say à tes souhaits smugly to my co-workers, feeling rather proud of my linguistic mastery. About two weeks into my internship, my boss leant over to me after a particularly violent sneezing fit and said the maddening phrase which constantly hindered my attempts at integration: On dit pas ça. One doesn’t say that. I then spent the next half hour being told how saying bless you was plouc (I’ll leave you to google that one) and that unless I wanted to be laughed out of the office I shouldn’t acknowledge the sneezes of my coworkers. Quel dommage.


So here we are, you’ve made it to the end of the day in your new office in Paris, having avoided making too much of a fool of yourself. You haven’t told anyone that you’re pregnant or asked a colleague to meet you in the sieve (two quite unfortunate real life incidents), and you pack up your things to head out. But wait. What do you say to your desk- mates before hitting the road? The obvious answer to anyone who speaks even a smidgen of French is au revoir. It’s a simple phrase drilled into our heads from a young age and clearly means Goodbye. When I left work for the first time, however, and said au revoir to my new colleagues I received the typical reaction of hysterical laughter. Another lesson learned, this time that in the evening I was to say salut or à demain on my way out, instead of the formal and a little stilted au revoir.


Although at times a minefield of traditions and customs, I found my office to be an incredible working environment which allowed me to work productively and make friends quickly, as soon as I learnt that calling me le petit anglais was intended as a term of endearment (apparently...).


Freddie Tidswell is a third year student at the University of Edinburgh studying French and Spanish.