Le Copinage

July 9, 2015

      In France it is often better to know someone than to know something, I am coming to learn.  I have had reason to experience the difference in connection with the repair of my tires after a vandal deflated two of them a few weeks ago.

       I am not someone who knows much about cars and who drives on four wheels and a prayer, if you will.  So while my tires got re-inflated, afterwards there was an unexplained yellow exclamation point showing up on the tachometer of the car's dashboard.

       I could not figure out why I was getting this signal, and thought it might be a new problem with the car.   I took out the manual for the car from the glove compartment to try to find an answer.  It was of course, only in French.  Flipping through the tables of symbols for the different parts of the car, it appeared to me that the problem might be that there was not enough brake fluid in the car, a dangerous condition which could cause the brakes to fail.  When I realized that I had been driving around on possibly compromised brakes, I realized I had to find a mechanic fast.

       The question was whether to call the number for service as I had done earlier, or try a local mechanic.  If it there was not enough brake fluid in the car, a mechanic could easily add some, but if I called the service number it would take at least a day for the problem to be sorted out.  A local mechanic might be quicker, but I did not know anyone reliable, or how to judge anyone I found in the vicinity of Caunes.  So what did I do?  --I relied on le copinage, that is, my network of contacts, or cronies.

         It was simple: I had a problem involving four wheels.  Whom to ask?  My cycling partners, all local men, with a long history in Caunes and the surrounding villages.

          I got up early today to make sure I was at the meeting point first and waited.  Sure enough, all three of the men who rode with me confirmed that there was a Citroen dealer in Caunes, which I had not known.  My problem was resolved mid-morning, much sooner than it would have been had I called the service number on my lease contract.

         What was the problem that caused the warning light to go on?  Was it due to a problem with the brake fluid?

          No.  The problem was that the repairman who picked up the car when I called about the air having been let out of the two tires took the car to the garage and re-inflated the tires without resetting the gauge that measures the pressure on the tires back to the point where it had been.  Consequently, the gauge indicated that the pressure on the tires was unsustainable, and the yellow exclamation point lit up.  Thanks to the mechanic's carelessness, and because I could not make sense of the French manual, I enjoyed a free night of worry.

         The French word insouciant means "carefree", as it does in English.  But it also means "careless".   And insouciance is very much a part of the mentalite of many French I encounter in business situations:

          *The salesman who sells me my WiFi printer does not ask what level MacbookAir I have, so it is unclear whether the printer will be WiFi compatible with my laptop, which uses an operating system more advanced than those for which the printer was built.  (I can use the printer by attaching it to the computer with a USB cable, but wanted to use it remotely);

          *The saleswoman at La Grand Pharmacie de la Gare rings up three products part of a "buy 2, get the third one free' promotion, but refuses to give me a refund when it turns out one of the purchased products is more than the other --a fact not part of the boldface of the promotion.  (She blames me for not looking at the virtually illegible fine print, even though before she rings me up,she makes me go back to the aisle from which I took the products to confirm that the promotion is still on);

       These are just two examples to add to my experience with the mechanic that re-inflated my car's tires   In stores, when you ask for a product, you had better hope that the sales personnel you ask is working the aisle where the product you need is located.  C'est ne pas mon rayon ("It's not my aisle") is such a well-worn response in shops that it has entered the language as a catch-phrase for "no service".

         At times, I find myself frustrated by the lack of energy and initiative and ask myself "Would I find this back home?"  I have to say "Yes", as anyone who has ever had to find something in a Radio Shack or Best Buy can attest.  The attitude of the clerks in New York is lackadaisical, and sometimes insulting, too.

         On the other hand, I have never been insulted in a French store, just tested.  The check-out clerk at La Grande Pharmacie de la Gare drove me crazy when she told me she could not give me a refund for the item I didn't want at a higher price, but I flummoxed her when I said "Next time, you'll point out the difference before you ring me up, right?  --I'm counting on you, copine!"