French Windows

It seems that closing a French bank account is not an easy thing to do. I thought that my experience was just a case of bad customer service, but apparently I am not alone.

When my daughter left France to work in the UK, she naturally closed her French bank account. However, statements kept arriving to inform us that there were several centimes still being held for her.

The branch was 300 metres from our house so it was easy to visit or to call in when passing. Only one assistant was ever on duty as it was small and local.

I broached the question of the few centimes – could they be transferred to our account ? No, that would need an authorising letter from my daughter. She duly wrote a note and I took it in a week of so later.

The next month another statement arrived which still showed the centimes in her account. Another visit took place. ‘We need a RIB with your bank details’. A RIB is a ‘relevé d’identité bancaire‘.These are thoughtfully printed in the back of your check book and can be given to anyone who needs your bank details.

‘But we bank here – you have our details on your computer! I’m sure it is possible for you to transfer this remaining amount from one account to another!’

The next month another statement arrived still showing the few centimes. Banking is not free in France. It was fortunate that there was only a small amount left as fees would have continued to have been taken during this time.

Another visit. ‘The account is still open , please could you close it’. ‘I am not authorised to do so, you need to make an appointment to see the manager’.

At this point I was fuming at the ridiculousness of all these excuses and the time being taken on something so trivial. Outside the bank my father was waiting for me. I mimed my frustration like a child would do, stamping my feet and clenching my fists with arms raised, much to the astonishment of the customer who was just entering!

That afternoon I took the phone and called the agency. ‘Please could I speak to the manager and make an appointment to see her’. The manager was a nice person, who we had always found to be very pleasant and helpful. She answered the phone.’There is no need to worry, Madame, I have your file open in front of me now. I will transfer the money straight away, and your daughter’s account will be closed.’ ‘Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you!’ If I had had her in front of me, I think I would have kissed her!

I have related the incident to my adult students. To my surprise, I found that it is far from unusual. Banks hate to lose clients, so they make it difficult for customers to close accounts. Even worse, I learnt that young trainees are encouraged to lie to the public. A parent told me about her daughter’s experience of joining a bank and of the other students cheering when these attitudes were being encouraged. Another told me of her friend’s discomfort as a bank employée at having to meet weekly targets that necessitated encouraging customers to buy policies and products that had no advantages for them. This employee eventually left her excellent well-paid job on moral grounds.

To close a French bank account a formal letter must be written and sent recorded delivery ‘lettre recommandée avec avis de reception‘.Examples can be found on line which must be copied to include several legal details and be handwritten! We obviously failed to do this when we thought we had closed our account with that branch as it remained open. Fortunately, we had also failed to change one source of credit going into it so the continuing monthly bank charges didn’t make it ‘à découvert ‘. But it was a surprise to find that several months after thinking the account was closed – it was open and money was being taken for monthly charges.

P.S  Doesn't  'à découvert' sounds like a wonderful adventure and nothing like the horror of being overdrawn?

When taking back an item to a shop, it is very common to be given an I.O.U. (I owe you), un avoir, instead of a refund. These flimsy pieces of paper can easily get lost in your purse, or be thrown out with old till receipts. Also they are dated and must be used within a certain time limit. Being British, I was not at all used to being offered an I.O.U., something seldom seen in the UK.

One day, I went to a cut-price soft furnishings outlet which sold lots of seconds – that is to say, items with slight faults. I wanted a duvet cover. I searched and searched for a long time before finding something of the right size and colour for our double bed. I paid, and went home. On opening the packet, I found that inside was a double sheet and not the duvet cover illustrated on the packet. A double sheet might be a good purchase in many circumstances, but not when I needed a duvet cover. I went back to the shop as soon as I could and was given ‘un avoir’.

Being new to France, I accepted it meekly, but was not at all happy. I had searched and searched in order to find this one item. There was nothing else I wanted and I couldn’t now use that money to buy bedding elsewhere.

Our lovely friend Sylviane, assured me that I was within my rights to have my money back. So back I went. I explained that there was nothing else in the shop that I wanted and please could I have my money back and not the ‘avoir’. The manager said that it was not possible that day but if I came back the next day in the afternoon it could be done.

It was certainly a good thing that the building was only in the next district to our house. Imagine, if I had lived several miles out of town? This would be the fourth visit to the shop.

The next day I was back at the time proposed. As soon as I walked in, the manager saw me and without saying a word, went into his office which was raised above the shop floor. I saw him pick up his telephone. ‘Oh, no’, I thought , he is purposely avoiding me and hiding out of the way, looking busy with other things. I went to the till and explained the situation to the assistant. The manager opened a sliding window and called down a series of numbers that the assistant wrote down. She taped the numbers into her till and opened the drawer, took my ‘avoir’ and gave me my refund. I then understood that without this authorisation from head office, she couldn’t open the cash register and take money out.

The French way of doing things often seems very complicated compared with the UK. The lesson to be learned is ‘Persistance’, ‘Politeness’ and yes, it is possible – even if you are the first person that has ever done it! Be a ‘Pioneer’!

We have 4 different magazines that are delivered to our house free of charge. The commune of Cormontreuil publishes one, Grand Reims does another, the Marne yet another and lastly one comes from the Grand Est Region. There is no excuse for not knowing about local politics.

When the Grande Reims magazine offered a free bike to the winner of a competition I thought my chances of winning were quite high as far fewer people would enter than if it was a national competition.

A double page spread showed all the recycling places in Reims, including the containers for old clothes. A question was asked about each of these facilities and you had to go and visit them to find the answer.

Each weekend, we went exploring and posing the questions. At each place I asked if anyone else had been there on this quest. Invariably the answer was, ‘Non, tu es le seule.’

One of the questions was about a series of recycling containers in the Northern part of Reims in the commune of Bethany. I was running out of time and opportunities to visit. I discovered Google Earth maps and just sent the little yellow man to walk round Bethany village centre. I found what was required.

Now, one question was about a recycling container in the large carpark near to our house. We knew that it used to exist, but when we looked for it, it had gone. Google Earth showed me which one used to be there.

How many people would give up at that point? If they had gone to the carpark and looked – there was nothing to be found. I was pretty sure that my entry would be the winner. We found the offices of the Reims recycling department and left my entry there.

A few weeks later I received a letter saying that I had won and to come and collect my bike!

When French children go back to school in September its called ‘La Rentrée’.

In September local authorities give parents of school children around 400€ to help them buy books and rucksacks etc. Some supermarkets help by giving out voucher booklets as well. It must have been my letter that precipitated a ‘Chéquier Rentrée des Classes’ to be posted to us, not the fact that we had a school aged child. There were 20 tear-out vouchers but each one gave a massive, enormous, extremely generous 200 loyalty points. Over the previous 5 years, I had been used to collecting 5 or10 at a time. I could recuperate the 3 year’s of points that had been unjustly reclaimed. I could get gifts from the display case that were more interesting than cheap Chinese umbrellas or a bottle of wine. I had seen exactly what I wanted. Our church had moved to a new building and a small room had been labelled as a ‘Salon de thé’. I was to be responsible for it, but it was just 4 bare walls. I had to beg, steal (not really) or borrow furniture and equipment. The supermarket display case had some individual teapots that stood on their own cup. In France they are called ‘solitaires’. The ‘tasse’ was at the bottom and the ‘théière’ fitted on top.They were plain white, but I had ceramic paints. They retailed for about 10€. However, by spending 2 tokens I would immediately amass 400 points and could claim my FREE teapot or even several FREE teapots.

Time was of the essence. I didn’t want to wait long to redeem them and find that there were no more teapots.To get the first 200 points, I only had to spend 5€ on cartons of juice. The art was to spend not a penny more and not a penny less. By carefully selecting 3 products, I spent 5.19€. On the Saturday I was back, buying toothpaste and bread and now 400 points were on my loyalty card – enough for a teapot. The customer service lady was happy to hand one over. The next Tuesday 2 packets of salted nuts got me another 200 points. But the cashiers were becoming suspicious. I was amassing loads of points for spending only a little. They started scrutinising the vouchers. The small print was examined – my purchases were checked to see if they tallied with the voucher. When I presented one for fruit, I was told it was only for ‘fresh’ fruit and I had selected ‘frozen’. I had had 5 years of dealing with this store. I pointed out that if the cashier read the small print ‘frozen’ was listed.

When I went to claim my second teapot, there was a change of atmosphere. ‘Chilly’ summed it up. ‘The vouchers are in the name of Mr. G and not Mrs J’. I sighed. ‘Do you want me to go home and come back with my husband?’ I asked. They gave in.

Giving away 2 free gifts to the same customer in less than a week had perhaps never been done before. For the third teapot, I was asked for proof of identity, and had to show my passport. Each visit was stressful. My heartbeat would increase as I approached the till, wondering what objection they could try to find this time. Getting teapots made me feel close to a heart attack level. The ladies never warmed to me. I had explained why I wanted the pots and even invited them to come and visit the teashop one day. I was to them perhaps, a foreigner cunningly exploiting the system. They were like Russian boarder guards, trying to find a way of preventing me. It was no skin off their nose if I claimed several teapots. Why did they take it so personally? I found that the teapots were not even very good ones. They were all seconds and sat unevenly in their saucers, so the price to the shop was probably centimes. I persevered though July, August and September until all the vouchers were used. I even asked a friend who had a dog, if I could buy something for him in order to get the last 200 points. The most expensive spend had been 10€ on salted nuts and the least expensive had been 3€ on bread.

One explanation for bad customer service is that jobs are pretty secure in France. Sacking someone can lead to expensive lawsuits. Therefore, why be nice to the customers? In 2012 I read that Charles De Gaule Airport was going to teach staff to be friendlier by starting a ‘Service University’ aimed at training staff to be more responsive to customers’ needs with the aim of improving service quality and customer satisfaction.

By contrast, a friend in the UK was so friendly and welcoming in her job in a cosmetic shop that she was head hunted by the bank next door. She started working as the person who goes up and down the queues of customers advising them that they could use the machines and need not wait in a line. Waiting for 25 minutes was not seen to be the lot of its customers!

Living less than 600 metres from a large hypermarket naturally meant that during our first years in France we did our shopping there. Supermarket shopping is easy when you don’t know much of the language. We were often asked, “Avez-vous une carte de fidélité?” And after a few weeks we filled in our names on a form and got the said loyalty card. In the UK, every pound spent means 1 point on your card. Not so in French supermarkets. Boots The Chemist used to give a massive 4 points for every pound spent. It came as a shock to find that French supermarkets were far from generous. 1 euro 50 centimes might get you 1 point.

We happily shopped there for 2 years before we suddenly realised that all our accumulated points had disappeared. The customer service desk became almost as frequent a stop as the tills. When I asked where all my ponts had gone, I was shown the line of printing near the bottom of each till receipt. ‘ Date de validité des points 31/10/2011‘ – Its the date when all your points disappear if you haven’t used them. I had therefore lost the past two years of saved points!

The next year, I was determined to get something for my loyalty. I had set my heart on a folding umbrella. I was only 10 points short, so I decided to go and spend 10 euros to get my umbrella. To my surprise no points appeared on my till receipt.That was when I learnt that the minimum spend was 15 euros. Determined not to lose my points for a third year, I went again to spend the required 15 euros. Again, no points appeared on my card. “Non, madame , c’est demain.” I understood that the points were stored on their computer system and only appeared the next time a purchase was made. Yet, another trip was needed. Three trips, three transactions to get my last 10 points. All for a flimsy, paper-thin, Made in China, folding umbrella. Was it worth it? But, I had learnt the idiosyncrasies of French loyalty cards.

I don’t know about you, but after 25 years of marriage, our cutlery set still has knives, forks and spoons, but nearly all of the teaspoons have disappeared. So my next year’s aim was to exchange my points for a set of teaspoons. I had passed the display cabinet many times and seen exactly what I wanted – a set of 6 small spoons. By October, I had accumulated all my points and went to claim my free gift. “Désolé, Madame, il n’en reste plus.” I couldn’t believe that my prize was not only out of stock but also that no more could be ordered because it was near the end of the year. The brochure with all the range of gifts was put on the counter for me to look through. I didn’t have small children any more so I didn’t need any of the cuddly toys. I have all the towels and face cloths that I need – I wanted teaspoons! I have wanted teaspoons for a whole year. How could they could they dangle something before my eyes for 12 months only to take it away at the last minute? In the end I accepted a bottle of wine.

Now I shop at the smaller, cheaper German supermarkets. There are no points, no prizes, but at least I don’t feel cheated, exasperated and annoyed after every visit.

To those of you reading this who live outside of France, you will think – what is so special about that? IKEA know that offering free coffee gets people into their building and that studies have shown that they will buy something that they would not have done otherwise. It is a good marketing strategy.

However, when IKEA arrived in Reims it took a long while for the managers to realise that they were a Swedish firm and not a French one. We received their catalogue that clearly said that members of the IKEA family could have a free coffee. At that time there was a nice little coffee bar area selling coffee and cakes next to the cafeteria.

We ordered coffee and were asked for payment. We pointed out that usually it was free. Quite disappointed and feeling wronged, we returned home where I also had a copy of the British catalogue which I started comparing with the French one. Every page had been translated and said exactly the same, including in black and white – that free coffee was offered to family members. The next time we visited, I made sure that we had the catalogue with us. We made a little progress. We got one free cup but had to pay for the second! Our requests for free coffee were obviously causing waves and the manager was getting irritated. He was determined to keep things French – nothing free – it is just not done! A poster had been erected. Coffee free with purchases of more than 65 centimes. We were getting closer to the promised free coffee but there was still a gap to be bridged. We duly bought 2 little cakes to get our morning coffee fix.

At that time they had various offers. Bring in old garden furniture and receive a voucher in exchange. Our garden furniture had been a wedding present from dear Aunt Audrey. It was definitely at the end of its life. As we stood in the queue, the guy in front was getting impatient. He had a trolley load of chairs. Finally, he turned to us and said that he wasn’t waiting any longer, we could redeem his stuff as well if we liked. We did really well and got a 50 euro voucher. We selected a really nice solid reclining wooden garden chair for exactly that price. We had paid nothing. It was free! But coffee was still an issue. This time we had to pay, but could take the receipt down a floor to customer services and queue for a refund. The letter of the law had been obeyed but with enough aggravation to ensure hardly anyone would get their ‘Free’ coffee.

When a quick snack eating area was created near the entrance, free black coffee was offered. It was horribly strong for a cappuccino drinker and required the forethought to take along some milk powder. But it was truly free with no hoops to jump though.

This week we took a friend to IKEA. We arrived at 11am – coffee time. I asked at the quick food bar if we coud have a free coffee. ‘Its no longer here, its upstairs in the restaurant that you have to ask.’ In the restaurant I asked how to get a free coffee. ‘Take a cup and go to the machine’. ‘There are 3 of us’. ‘No problem, take 3 cups,’ as she swiped my Family Card. The machine didn’t just dispense black coffee, but also lattes, cappuccinos and viennois as well!! Wow, France is finally in line with the rest of the world – a free coffee! It makes you feel welcome, a true family member, someone who is encouraged to come whenever the doors are open! France is changing!! I wonder how much my tenacity was part of it. Perhaps you have me to thank for your free coffees (Monday to Fridays) in French IKEAs.

Anyone used to good customer service will, one day, be shocked by the lack of it in France.

When I had a problem with a MacDonald’s order, a young French friend who had worked for the company told me what I should do. ‘Go in and shout at the servers, then they will fetch the manager. Shout at the manager and then you will get what you want.’

Children at the age of two or three have tantrums to try to get what they want, so it came as a shock to hear someone suggesting that I would need to regress considerably to get good customer service in France.

Our first experience of terrible customer service, was when my husband ordered a ‘bombe surprise’ in a Brittany restaurant. The frozen dessert did indeed contain a surprise for embedded into the centre was the end of a blue rubber glove! We called over the waiter and showed it to him. He shrugged his shoulders and after serving several other people, went to have a word with the boss. She too shrugged her shoulders and continued with her work. A while later the waiter came over to tell us the verdict. ‘It wasn’t made by us.’ No attempt to remove it, replace it or even apologise.

If I remember correctly we did get a little recompense – we were not charged for one of the cups of coffee. Starbucks is rapidly expanding though the world. There is now even one in Reims! Their customer care team has said, “We’re in the people business serving coffee, not in the coffee business serving people”. With that motto it’s hardly surprising that they are doing so well.