Pensieri di un lunatico minore

14 January 2009 Personal

C’est un vrai connard, or giving the French a bad name

The French have a, sometimes undeserving, reputation as variously aloof, curt, rude and narcissistic, however my partner’s boss gives not only foundation to any ill-will one might want to feel, but a whole new level of dimension of, well, inhuman behavior. For a party, I had baked chocolate-chip cookies and some amazing brownies. Now, not to toot my own horn—OK, just a little—but these are killer things. Yes, they’re sweet, but I make them in smaller sizes because of this. We’re not talking Cheesecake Factory excess, but a 1” square brownie of pure chocolate indulgence. His boss’ reaction, relayed through chat?

Connard came in, tossed the brownie/cookie to the side of his desk and, with a very big sigh, said: We French don’t indulge in constant fattening like you Americans so please don’t bring me more of your sweet food.

Really? You’re kidding me, right? Not even a “thank you, but I don’t eat sweets/like chocolate/etc”? Basically, it was “f-you, you fat American pig”, which is ironic since the partner isn’t the least bit overweight. I had previously written off Connard’s inconsiderate and self-obsessed linguistic misteps as simply an unfamiliarity with the English language, such as “well, I let you go to the doctor last week”, but this to me illuminates a gaping hole of persona where politeness, decency and one might even say simple humanity would normally be placed. Instead, it’s replaced by a gigantic serving of douche.

This entry was posted at 10:28 am on 14 January 2009 and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the post-specific RSS 2.0 feed.

I like that the last word is also French.

The evening kicker is that the bastid ate them anyway and looked over at me with an “Mmmmmmm” and two thumbs motioning upwards along with a winky wink indicating that he approved. He’s a nut job to say the least. Bastid.

I’d send in more cookies with a note:

“We Americans don’t engage in effortless surrender so eat the fucking cookie or else. Douche. And I don’t mean “shower”. But you might want to think about it. Showering, that is.”

whoa. That got long-winded. sorry.

I have always thought that you don’t make any level above manager in a consultancy without being at least mildly disturbed. I am not sure what that says about me at this point. ;-)

send the next batch our way. we’ll find them a good, appreciative home

Aww. Now, if the rest of the world had thoughtful manners like you, we’d be in a better place.

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