Try ordering at a french breakfast joint if you want to learn what true humiliation feels like. Having your French criticized by an unexpectedly persistent native speaker is unforgettable. I ordered coffee not crepes, you pretentious Italian-derivative median fish in the world’s tiniest pond. I see you snickering. Who orders a raspberry coffee? Guillaume, if you’re reading this, I hope you never eat a decent croissant again for the rest of your life.
Your first mistake was to speak in a language which randomly decides to have some extra letters which it doesn’t pronounce.
I was at a Hard Rock Café in Paris (yes I know they’re overpriced, but the historic stuff on the walls is pretty cool), and I hobbled my way through a conversation in my very basic French, before adding a little self-deprecating “je suis désolée, mon Français est mauvais”, to which he replied “yes, it is a bit shit”.
I laughed, he laughed, my other half laughed, I paid over the odds for a pint, the French dude got a kick out of pointing out the flaws in my attempts, everyone went on their day.
I tried to learn some French as I was trecking through and ordered a beer
He immediately said, I should stay with German, if I can’t speak French, because I gendered the fucking beer wrong (neutral in German, female in French)
It’s frustrating. I kinda get it though - the French are proud of their language, and if they’ve got well-meaning travellers coming through and butchering it in new and inventive ways (particularly in high tourism areas) day in, day out… I can see how it would be grating.
I was in Starbucks on the outskirts of Paris, and ordered by drink in pigeon French, and the barista answered me in English. I answered her question in French, and she answered me in English. This went on for a couple more exchanges before we both laughed at how absurd it was - I asked “is my French really that bad?” and she just says “no your French is fine, but I can speak English better”. Fair enough.
I have heard though that outside of Paris though, people are far more appreciative of someone learning the language, to the point of being brutal with it. A friend was out in the North of the country, the locals loved that he was learning, but then let him absolutely sink when he reached a stage of a conversation where he was struggling. They could quite easily have bailed him out in English, but in fairness they made him think that little bit faster to make him learn.
On the other hand, your German beers are much better than our French beers. Perhaps it was kind but clumsy advice?
I was at a place outside Paris, not too far, but in the Normandy countryside, in a tour group for French people because that’s what was running when we arrived and we didn’t want to wait an hour for the English version.
Me, with my three years of college-level French, was reasonably able to translate for my wife and ask simple questions. I held most of our questions until the end when everyone else had wandered off, so as to not bother anyone, and when we got the chance I started in with the more involved questions. This biscuit of a young woman listens to me stutter my question out with an utterly deadpan look on her face, and paused, then answered in English.
I was like, I’m trying here. At least acknowledge I’m trying to respect your culture.
I’m a stereotypical metalhead, with the all black clothes, long hair, and monster tshirts and I have no problem ordering goofy shit. I’ll get the fruitiest drink they have and down it with my pinky up, no problem.
But remember. Most stereotypical metalheads know that their masculinity isn’t defined by something like this. I’ve seen metalheads with beards and long hair absolutely slay in skirts and dresses.
I really love when “the stereotypical metalhead” is pulled out for masculinity comparisons because most I know don’t give a shit about masculinity and just want to be themselves. And I love that.
If a cute and goofy name of a pancake can make someone insecure for ordering it, then they suffer really huge insecurities.
Maybe im the weird one, but I will happily order stuff like the “rooty tooty fresh ‘n’ fruity pancakes” exactly as named on the menu with a huge grin on my face. Or if im feeling silly, I’ll ask for it with a completely deadpan monotone while looking the waiter in the eye.
If you’re already at IHOP to begin with, saying “rooty tooty fresh 'n fruity” does not increase your level of shame.
Customer walks out, goes to a non-corporate local diner where they call them “Fruit Pancakes”
