June 19, 2013
Caunes-Minervois
Car Follies

          The day dawns full of promise for continued adventures on the road, with the mechanic in Renault's Livignan-Corbières garage to call for an update on the timetable for conclusion of the battery replacement on the Clio and repair of the problem with the sensor on the remote control.  Unfortunately, the news is not good: the battery for the Clio #4, the latest model in the Clio series, which just became available on the market, is unavailable.  "Unavailable" in this case means, unavailable from any local dealer, unavailable at the factory.  The date on which the suitable replacement battery might be available from the factory is unforeseen.  There is nothing to do but to wait, Monsieur Christophe Pascual, the chief mechanic, tells me, fully sympathizing with the fix I am in.

          I call the Renault emergency vehicle replacement number again, and realize, listening to the prompts, that I have been speaking to an office in Morocco all along, which explains the Spanish accent of the woman I spoke with yesterday.  Now, however, I am speaking with a rather short-tempered man, who tells me that all he can tell me is that they are searching for an automatic transmission replacement vehicle as best they can, and there is nothing more to be done.  When I lay out the problem of being stranded without a car, his voice rises.  When I layout my worst fear --that I will be unable to get my guest to the Toulouse SNCF station Saturday-- he asks me what he expects him to do.

          "I would like you to promise me that, in the worst-case situation, that you will provide a taxi to get my guest to the SNCF station in time to make her train to Paris."

           "There is not an emergency vehicle replacement office that would make such a promise.  We are not equipped to take such decisions," he says, his voice growing still more agitated.

           "Excuse me, sir, but you are shouting at me, and I am offended--"

           "No, no, no --I am not shouting at you.  You are asking me to do something outside the area of my responsibilities.  Your problem with your guest is your problem--"

           "No, it is your problem--"

           "No, I am doing my job--"

           We are at an impasse.

           "Well, then why are you calling me?" I sputter, worn out.

           "To tell you that we are working on the problem.  We will call you back when we can."

           In Hinduism, it is said that to worry about that which cannot be helped is to be distracted from the task of living.  Certainly, that would seem to also form part of the French philosophy.  Notwithstanding, I now have several logistical problems on my hands which seem unsusceptible to solution immediately.  No one at any of the phone numbers I call, save that of the Blagnac/Toulouse airport Europa Car agency where I picked up the Clio #4, makes any attempt to take responsibility for the situation I find myself in as a result of the breakdown of the vehicle.

          Serge, the Europa Car representative at Blagnac/Toulouse airport, does something highly un-French, in telling me that he knows a couple of places that have automatic transmission cars in the Caunes-Minervois vicinity, and that he will call me back.

          Alline and I go to have a coffee and while we are sitting in the café on Place de la Republique, the emergency vehicle replacement office calls: there is a Seat "Lion" model automatic transmission replacement vehicle available in Narbonne.  We will be driven there by taxi not today, but tomorrow at 1:00 p.m., the vehicle being available at 2:00 p.m.  No mention is made of the terms under which I must return the Seat, a Spanish car, should the Clio #4 be available in good working order.  In fact, I wonder whether there is not a suggestion in the replacement agent's voice that the Seat "Lion" is to become my car for the summer.

          What is more, no mention is made of any credit for the soon-to-be three days during the lease period I will be car-less.  The French are a nervous people who do not react well when events take an unexpected turn, or in the face of the persistent demands for accountability I am making.  Nonetheless, I  now have the knowledge that there is a replacement vehicle available to me in Narbonne for so long as it takes to replace the Clio #4 battery, whenever that is.

           Shortly after this, Serge calls, with the news that he can dispatch a larger automatic transmission vehicle, a Peugeot, to Carcassonne and have it ready by this afternoon.  I tell him of the offer I have received from the emergency replacement department and ask him whether I can trust the Seat Lion.

           "Oh, yes, that should be fine", he says, so I don't need to figure out how to get to Carcassone.

           Serge is the only person in the chain of responsibility with whom I have dealt that makes any attempt to reassure me that the problem I have will be taken care of.  Which is signal, and perplexing, too.  If I am going to receive a replacement vehicle, one way or the other, why wouldn't the emergency replacement vehicle department people tell me that in the first place, even if it meant also telling me that it might take some time and that they are sorry for the inconvenience?

           Some theorize that the difficulty the French have accepting blame goes back to the educational system.  That system operates on what is known as "Theory' X'", rather than "Theory 'Y'" in  Maslovian psychology.  In "Theory 'X'", persons are motivated by pain and fear, in "Theory 'Y'" by the chance to realize their promise.  In French schools, "Theory 'X'" has held sway since Jules Ferry guaranteed public education to all.  That is to say that teachers are highly critical of students and can even give them a 0% grade.  Which means you are a "Nul" --a zero, worthless.  As a result, the French are highly sensitive to criticism, and blow up whenever any sort of claim is made that they have failed to live up to their responsibilities, whether as a merchant, a service provider, or any of the other categories to which some obligation might attach, including, sometimes, personal relationships.

          The ramifications of this attitude, or mentalité, on France's ability to integrate itself globally are obvious.  Due to that refractory sensibility, France is now viewed as the spoiler in the latest round of free-trade agreement talks, even by the European Commission, whose President, the Portuguese Jose-Manuel Barroso, has criticized France's insistence on the "cultural exception" that would take off the table negotiations about internet access and social networking, let alone subsidization of films and television programs by the French government.

          Working out problems with non-French counter parties becomes a major source of headaches for both, as the French are viewed as unreasonably rigid, and do not explain their positions well; the French, on the other hand, refuse to take into account that what is acceptable in France does not go down easily beyond its borders.

          So my little problem with the Clio #4 just seems one more indicia of why the country can be  simultaneously so endearing and so frustrating.