What A Beautiful Day To Fight Discrimination

The sun is out, the breeze is cool; it’s Barbecue season. There are lots of things I need to get, and one of those things is ice.  I head on down to my local Dépanneur in search of huge quantities of ice.

I walk into the Dep, the bell chimes, 

“Bonjour!” Says the woman at the cash.

“Bonjour!” I reply, “Umm, excuse me, how do I get into the big ice box outside, is there a key?”

Her response shocks me; “FRENCH!”

“Excuse me?” I ask. They are the only words I can muster at this point, as I’m quite literally shocked to my core.

“FRENCH!” She repeats.

“I’m sorry, I don’t see how the word ‘French’ has answered my question or aided me in anyway. I was simply asking about ice.”

“FRANCAIS! FRANCAIS! ICI ONT PARLE LE FRANCAIS!” She yells without hesitation.

“Yes, and you must be very proud. French is a beautiful language, after all. I speak it, too. I do so enjoy learning things about people, but would you mind answering my question about the ice?”

(By now, you have noticed, I have no problem making people uncomfortable or putting them in their place.)

“PARLE LE FRANCAIS MAIDMOISELLE!” She demanded. (How rude…really!)

It is at this point, that I desperately want to lock her in the ice box until she learns some manners, but that would probably be frowned upon and classy girls do not lock rude cashiers in ice boxes. 

I take a moment, find my voice, and speak, “There is no reason to yell, Miss, and there is certainly no reason to demand that I speak French. Si vous ne parlez pas l'anglais tout ce que vous aviez à faire était de me dire et je l'aurais volontiers parlé à vous en français.”

I’d like to say that we all lived happily ever after, and she learned her lesson, and offered me a lifetime supply of free ice as an apology. Unfortunately that’s not what happened, but the shocked look on her face as she handed me the key to the ice-box was a pretty good prize, too.