Snotty. Entitled. Can’t-be-bothered. Overbearing.
Failing business. Refusing to modernize.
Librairie de France, you have managed to distill every unpleasant stereotype of the French (other than odoriferousness, but then I chose to visit today because it’s unseasonably cool) into a single 20-minute shopping experience. And I didn’t even have to leave New York! Now, of course, I wonder if I even want to…
I only wanted two things: a guidebook to Paris, and a language-instruction book called “Insider’s French: Beyond the Dictionary,” which tries to update people like me on how French has changed in the last 15 years.
I try to look at guidebooks, located by the entrance. Cheese Eating Surrender Monkey (henceforth, CESM) #1, could you please try to be even more creepy and annoying? Or make it more obvious that you think I’m about to make a break for the door with all $16.95 worth of Guide Vert? Maybe you could rest your pointy, not-well-shaven chin on my deltoid. After all, you’re hovering right above my head, as I’m bent over looking at the guides. D’you think your shitty assumptions might be making more people leave your store than actually buy books? No, this isn’t worth it. Maybe downstairs I can find something.
I’m one of possibly two customers in the entire basement, this in Rockefeller Center during lunch. There are, however, at least five staff people milling about. After searching fruitlessly, I find CESM #2, stocking shelves.
Me: Hi, could you please help me find a title? I’m looking for “Insider’s French-“
CESM (brusquely): We don’t carry English books.
Me: But this is a book for learning French (turns to face entire wall of books written in English for learning French*), I mean -
CESM (sighing): We don’t carry English books. Try Barnes & Noble.
*Many of which were the same books I used in high school 15 years ago. Maybe CESM2 had forgotten they were there. In any case, it wasn’t exactly reassuring.
No offer to help. No offer to place an order. No offer to find out if anyone knows if the book is any good or not. No offer to sell me something else instead.
In short, no effort in the slightest to provide me with a single reason ever to return.
Oh, wait, that would require acknowledging that you have competition, or that the competition might do it better - neither of which is exactly a national characteristic in CESM-land. No, instead you’ll keep doing this as always, until finally you go under, after which you can rail against the cruelty of Anglo-Saxon capitalism, demand an EU subsidy, scream about cultural imperialism, then claim your pension and drink yourself to oblivion.
Actually, maybe I’ll give you one more chance.
Next time I’ll tell you I’m German.