MY FIRST TRIP TO THE U.S.: CULTURAL SHOCK AND SCHIZOPHRENIA
by Pascal Jacquelin

Part IV in a series...

It was my first trip to the United States: I was invited to Chicago for New Year's by some friends. My English was fluent, and I was aware that the French and U.S. cultures differed in many ways; I naturally assumed everything would be all right. Yet, somehow, I was not quite prepared and the first cultural shock hit me not long after I landed at O'Hare airport.

The 6 million-dollar question

Having gone through customs, I took the shuttle bus to the car rental dealer. As I got on the bus, I heard the driver utter a resounding "Hi! How are you doing?" As any French person would have done, considering the bus was empty, I wondered who the man might have been talking to. I turned around. No one was there. I then asked myself whether I might know the man from somewhere. No, really, I had never seen him before in my whole life. Only one conclusion was to be drawn from this episode: the words that I had heard were meant for me. Slow as I had been to analyze the situation, I didn't quite know if I should pretend I hadn't heard him or if I should offer a belated response. I finally mumbled an embarrassed "Hi!" and shamefully hurried towards the back of the bus thinking: "How come the bus driver is interested in how I am?"

To a Paris-raised Frenchman, the question "how are you?" can only be asked if you and the person you are addressing already know each other. It would therefore be quite unusual or even inappropriate to ask a perfect stranger that question. In America, where informality is more widespread, people generally start off any verbal transaction with this type of small talk.

Same difference!

At first I really found the ritualistic exchange tedious and thought it only confirmed the French stereotype about Americans being shallow. What was the point of asking a person how they were if the only answer you expected was a non-grammatical "good?"

Then I thought about how the French greet each other ("bonjour, monsieur!" or "bonsoir, madame!") and realized that we generally did not mean it when we wished our interlocutors a "good day" and that the greeting was therefore just as shallow and insincere. French and U.S. greetings: same difference!

"Hi, Kevin!"

The next cultural shock occurred when I went to a restaurant with a few friends. Regardless of the fact that I had never heard of a restaurant where you had to bring your own wine (the Frenchman in me was stunned!), I was flabbergasted when the waiter came to our table and introduced himself saying "Hi! How are you guys doing? My name is Kevin. I'll be your server tonight."

Did he really want to know how I was? Should I tell him about my jetlag? His name was Kevin! What did I care whether his name was Kevin or Tallulah? He would be our server tonight. Of course, he was going to be our "server"; wasn't that stating the obvious? And what was wrong with the term "waiter" anyway?

I soon realized why I was being so grumpy (apart from the fact I was jetlagged). In Paris, a large proportion of the waiters (especially in cafés) generally treat you so badly that you end up expecting all waiters to be rude. So I composed myself and joined the choir replying "Hi, Kevin!"

The meal was only beginning and I was in for another cultural shock. Kevin came back with a pitcher of water full of ice. Was that man crazy? It was December in Chicago! Not August in Miami! Why was he serving ice-cold water? To say nothing of the ice cubes which tasted like distilled water. Being French, I had been raised thinking icy water was really bad for your health. So we were not off to a good start.

Dine and dash (at the same time!)

The first plate came along quite quickly. Service was fast-just as fast as I was, wolfing down my food. Little did I know that my plate would be whisked away immediately. So, now, there I was, with no plate in front of me while my friends were only starting their appetizers (called entrées in French)! Another major difference between the French and the U.S. approach to eating out had suddenly become painfully obvious to me. In the U.S., efficiency comes first. Clients are therefore not supposed to sit around talking forever. Once the meal is over, they have to leave so other people can take their places. A few years later I noticed that they were trying to do the same things in some French restaurant chains and I was not too thrilled.

In France we take orders from the waiters.

On the other hand, American restaurants offer a main advantage. Not only are they much larger than in France on the whole, but you can sit wherever you please. In France you have to ask the waiter's permission-and French waiters are not very accommodating in that respect! They won't hesitate to say they can't find a table for you and your friend when there are four "tables for four" conspicuously vacant. It seems profitability is also the operative word here, after all. Very hard to say which system is better!
Respect goes up in smoke!

In my previous article (France: a Passion for Freedom) I hinted at the problem of smoking, I think it is well worth mentioning here. American restaurants are sheer bliss for non-smokers like me. France is a disgrace in that respect. Non-smoking zones are a joke and if you make any objection concerning somebody's smoking, you will be regarded as a trouble-maker. However, smokers are starting to have a hard time in cities like New York and shutting them out is not very respectful either.

Service included… or not!

At the end of the meal, I was completely lost when the check came along. Sales tax, gratuity: how productive was that, I thought? Why couldn't everything be included as in France? Come to think of it, why should it? I asked myself. Considering how bad service was in some Paris restaurants, wasn't it appalling that the waiters got their 15 percent? I did not know what to think any longer. And jet lag was not helping.

Relaxing in front of the TV… not quite!

The next morning I woke up at my friends' place and turned on the TV. Talk of a culture shock! Televangelists, Jerry Springer, Judge Judy, commercials every ten minutes, newscasters with perfectly straight and impeccably white teeth. On the other hand their cable TV box was working properly! Not like "Noos" in Paris and its Visiopass, which is probably the slowest cable box in the world!

Americanized? Who? Moi?

Although I am still very much divided about the advantages and drawbacks of both countries, I have undeniably changed since my first trip to the U.S.. Some might even say I have been Americanized. I sometimes use American expressions. I drink iced water now and I say "Hi! How are you doing?" to everyone I meet. Do you think I should have my teeth straightened?

About the Author

Pascal Jacquelin of Delta Training, has over 15 years' experience under his belt both as a translator and a trainer. At the age of 17 while pursuing his translation degree, he was quickly singled out for his exceptional linguistic abilities and had no difficulty finding a job as an English teacher and translator with a major language school in Paris. His eagerness to diversify his experience led him to move on to teaching young adults. After passing the prestigious Agrégation teaching diploma with flying colors (he came in 10th in France), he worked his way up as course organizer in a fast-expanding university outside Paris where he taught Translation, Business Negotiation and Public Speaking for five years.

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