French Connection

Last night I gate-crashed Michel's cocktail party, part of the Market Pulp Conference that's here in town, and ended up talking to the proprietor of the fancy French restaurant, L'Hermitage, Hervé, about France's 35-hour work week.

"The French are lazy," he said. "I put in more than 14 hours a day here, and I can't do that in France, because of this law." He thinks that since the law was introduced eight or nine years ago, the country is going downhill. It's hard to argue with someone who's managed to keep a high-end restaurant going in Vancouver, the city of the dining fickle, for 16 years. It's a dog-eat-dog world here for restauranteurs. Meawhile, as we were discussing labour legislation, I was dying to shimmy over to the bar and get a glass of wine. I'd already had this discussion with other French people last week, whose opinion were less negative towards it -- or more positive, whichever way you want to look at it.

I didn't just show up at L'Hermitage, exactly, Jane suggested I pop over for a glass of wine, so who was I to say no? I walked in, saw Michel, and as soon as I mentioned I was only just a few days before in Mont St. Michel, he introduced me to Hervé, who's from the area. I hadn't even said hello to Jane, Martha, or any of my colleagues. I think I hadn't had enough to eat at lunch, because I swear I hadn't even finished the glass before I felt myself getting more than a bit tipsy. I also seemed to go a tad deaf, too, because when I was introduced to other pulp market movers and shakers, I thought the person I was shaking hands with was George Petty.

"George Petty?" I asked, leaning forward, his hand still in mine.

Everyone laughed uproariously, but rather than get embarrassed I managed to squire some effective follow-up jokes that took the edge off the "oh-my-goodness-I-just-put-my-foot-in-my-mouth" look of horror. The man I was shaking with was Dan Veniez, and I did eventually meet George Petty, but I think people were laughing because these two look nothing alike. So, it could've been much worse, since I'd initially thought it was because I'd just insulted someone by suggesting he was someone else.

My colleagues had to go to a dinner hosted by another company, so I had all of about two minutes to talk to Kevin, who I hadn't seen for a month. I have yet to see the new office, and I didn't have a key! But, I'll head there on Friday.

As the cocktails wound down and the others headed off, I became even more brash and invited myself to stay for dinner at L'Hermitage, a restaurant I've only been to once before because it's so out of my price range, the appetisers cost more than my average entrée... but it was good to spend time with this bunch of people I only get to see once a year, at our company Christmas party. You can never get enough conversation in, since there are too many of us to have a decent chat with all. There was only one person at L'Hermitage who wasn't an associate of our companies -- it was one of Michel's clients from Seattle, so at least the dinner wasn't all shop talk. I waited for the bill, but it never did arrive -- in the end, Michel took care of it, so I think I'm going to see if I can get him some of his favourite cheese -- Rocquefort!