Rude Paris waiters

What I'm learning on my latest visit

It’s often reported that tourists in Paris suffer the rudeness of locals, particularly waiting staff. Americans, particularly, leave scores of bad restaurant reviews complaining about waiters…

Le Cepage

I’m currently in Paris, my third extended stay here of the year, and probably something like my fortieth visit here since my first, back in 1979. When I am here I have the thrill of seeing some brilliant things - from the quite beautiful Keith Haring triptych in the church of St Eustache in Les Halles, to late night voguing competitions at the clubnight La Mona at La Bellevilloise.

Allied to this thrill is the sense of familiarity. Sometimes I’m surprised - I’m walking along a street and I pass the door to a venue I realise I DJd at some time thirty or so years ago. I have a good sense of direction but usually it’s dark when I arrive and leave a club. Could I find my back to the Nouveau Casino? No chance. And then, accidentally, I’m stood outside in the cold light of day, and three decades later.

I get a sliver of a sentimental flashback on other occasions, especially at places I remember taking my son or my daughter. They were introduced to Paris by me at an early age and our visits are among our favourite and happiest times together.

The sentimentality can slide into despondency. Getting old doesn’t have many upsides, while the downsides include recalling all the beautiful best times and having to acknowledge their utter, irretrievable, pastness.

Au Petit Suisse. 1956.

During this trip I’ve been to places I’ve visited before. On Tuesday I was in the Jardin du Luxembourg walking towards the Sorbonne when I decided to head off towards Au Petit Suisse for a drink. Sitting there, it dawned on me that I’d based my memory of the coffee and the ambience being decent on what it was like previously, around 1985 and 2010. Fortunately, the coffee is still excellent. Turns out it was founded in 1791 - you’re not in business for 233 years without maintaining some degree of consistency. There are no photos of course from back then, but I found one from 1956 (see above). The terrasse remains good for people-watching.

My wanderings have also taken me to new places. I spent an hour on Hallowe’en at the Yoyaku record store listening to instore sets by various DJs. I also went to a bookshop in the cute Passage Molière near the Etienne Marcel metro called EXC and I don’t know why I haven’t been there before.

The day I went to St Eustache, I made my way for coffee at a café called Dame Tartine. Please forgive me if you think this is a bit nuts, but I chose Dame Tartine because it appears in Les Rendez-vous de Paris, a film by Éric Rohmer (the participants in a bizarre love triangle meet there).

Dame Tartine overlooks the Stravinsky Fountain; a few dozen animated sculptures inspired by Stravinsky, fashioned by Jean Tinguely and Niki de Saint Phalle. I particularly like the latter’s brightly coloured works.

The Stravinsky Fountain, Dame Tartine, with a red canopy, on the left.

I was there just before 11am. The guy came to open up at 11, and five minutes later I had my café allongé. The guy was smiley in his interactions, brought me a carafe of water which is usual in the city, and I felt very welcome. It was good to be so close to art, and have a decent coffee.

That day I had lunch at Café Obrkof (41 Bd Voltaire 75011) and experienced lovely efficient service and a hugely healthy plate of wholesomeness billed as “Salade Energie”.

I also realised a pattern had developed since I’d arrived nearly a week earlier - positive, friendly encounters with staff in restaurants and cafes. Truth is, I’ve never had much of a difficult encounter with anyone in Paris apart from the occasional doorman, and pissed-off customers in clubs upset I won’t play their requests. But that’s the same the world over.

I’ve become aware of the friendly welcome phenomenon on this trip because I’ve been in a few neighbourhoods I’m unfamiliar with and had to look up places to eat and drink. I don’t know why, but when I’m on review sites I get drawn to the one star reviews, before moving on to those with four and five stars. The one star reviews can be the site of much drama - you’ll find irate business owners taking issue with reviewers. I’ve never been swayed by a one star review, but I’ve often been entertained.

Customer enjoys breakfast but “you also have to put up with the typical French waiter who skillfully ignores you”. Customer orders two coffees; the waiter “throws the cups on the table”. Customer arrives with wife; “We had to wait for 10 minutes, just to be served”. Customer orders hot chocolate; “There was too much milk in the drink and the people working there were quite unfriendly”.

Customer curses a brasserie for the “condescending” attitude of the waiter. Customer chooses a restaurant for the view from the terrasse; “The waiter doesn’t like if you do not speak French”. Elsewhere, a table of four people from Miami also encounter a language problem; “The servers don’t speak English well, they got our orders all wrong”.

Of course, the language problem boils down to this; you’re in a foreign country but expect people to be fluent in your mother tongue. Give ordering in French a go; it’s cool, although you’re best to accept that if your accent is dodgy mistakes will be made. Outside a bar with my daughter, I once ordered two glasses of Côtes du Rhône and we got two pints of Heineken. This was one of the highlights of her holiday.

Language issues are probably behind this report from a reviewer of a bistrot in a tourist area who asks the waitress what type of chicken is cooked; “She said white, white, it’s white chicken”. The reviewer is confused; “I thought that was very strange”. Reviewer decides the waitress is “angry” and “bitter”.

All these complaints are from establishments where other reviewers have found the service to be impeccable, charming, and so on. I can’t help thinking how many of the negative online comments are likely the result of cultural misunderstandings, impatience on the part of the customer, an inappropriate attitude in some way, or the member of staff feeling like they’re being treated like a lackey. I don’t envy anyone working in venues in the middle of tourist areas anywhere in the world, the rubbish you’d need to put up with is relentless.

A customer visits a legendary brasserie in Montparnasse “When we had finished, the bill didn’t come, we had to ask for it”. To be honest, in France, the custom is not to lay the bill on the table as soon as the eating is over; customers can linger, take their time. When they’re ready to leave, then they’ll attract the waiter’s attention.

French waiting staff are employed to be efficient rather than chummy. They don’t introduce themselves with “Hi, I’m Priscilla, I’ll be your waitress this evening” or any other faux friendliness you might find in the USA. For one thing, waiting staff are relatively well paid in France, and not reliant on tips. They appreciate a tip, of course, but don’t feel the need to indulge in obsequious bullshit to extract more cash from you.

In some other countries, you may want your waiter frequently appearing on your shoulder during your meal asking you if everything is OK. In France, a customer wouldn’t appreciate being pestered whilst eating. A good waiter can sense a table might have an issue with something with a quick glance from the other side of the room. Being a waiter in France is a bit like being a football referee - you’re doing your job well if you are inconspicuous.

It’s generally the case that waiting staff don’t go to work to make new friends. Maybe the negative reviewers mistake waiters being aloof for arrogance. Or maybe, yes, they’ve been unlucky on this occasion and been served by someone who’s being a dick. Dicks do exist, all over the world.

Did the stereotype of the unfriendly Paris waiter ring more true decades ago? It’s possible. I mostly existed on baguette and cheese eaten in tiny hotel rooms on my first visits, so my experience in cafés and restaurants was limited. Paris, like most of the West, is more informal now. There seems to have been a loosening of how people relate to each other in the last forty or fifty years; I think that’s been the case in England, for sure. Or maybe the stereotype has always been a myth.

One of my regular early morning haunts is Le Cepage on rue Culaincourt. They’ve never mocked my rudimentary French, and never answered me in English. I go there for a coffee and a croissant first thing and they leave me alone for hours, reading and writing. I like the good mix there; they attract tourists but most of their clientele are regulars, including lots of older folk and a few eccentrics, notebook-scribblers, newspaper readers, and creatures of habit. Like me.

Francis Labutte

At the nearby Francis Labutte, another of my favourite writing cafés, there’s quite a turnover of staff - as there tends to be in hospitality - but one waitress remains from when I first visited eight or nine years ago. She gave me the bill the other day. “Still here?”, I said (she obviously was). “Oui Monsieur. Ça va?”. And we discussed how many years she’s been here and when was the last time she saw me. We were laughing. We seem so unadventurous. Both part of the furniture. I’d been thinking about my dozens of trips to Paris. “I am old now” I said to her. “Moi aussi, Monsieur, moi aussi”.

I sent a photo from Le Cepage to my daughter, in her late 20s; most excellently, she replied insisting we must try to plan another visit together soon. My melancholia lifted; the past is gone but the future is still full of promise.

Advice; when you arrive in a cafe or restaurant smile and say “Bonjour”. In Paris, “Bonjour” should always be your first word in any encounter, unless it’s after about 5.30pm/6pm when it turns into “Bonsoir”.

If I may offer some more advice? Thinking about it, it’s advice generally applicable in any given situation; when you interact with other human beings being cheery and smiley more often than not elicits the same response from them.

Further reading;