Jamie Oliver
My desktop is a mess, cluttered with posts that I started, but never got around to finishing. Like the one about Jamie Oliver, who personally doesn’t make me sick, but the camera work on his show definitely makes me quesy.
A lot of times a thought will hit me when I’m out and about, then I’ll race home and start writing, only never to go back and follow up and finish the post.
Anyhow, these are some posts that I started and never got around to finishing up. But I have so many new things that I want to write about, it was time to let these go. So here’s a look at what could’ve been, but never was, and never will be…
How To Look Parisian
I found a wallet on the street, and was with my partner, who’s Parisian. Opening it up, there was a school ID so we stopped in the nearby school to return it to the front desk. He did all of the talking, I stood by not making a sound.
When it was time to leave, she looked at me, and said…in English, “And thank you very much, too.”
I hadn’t said anything. I wasn’t wearing my fanny pack or puffy white sneakers. Heck, I wasn’t even smiling. Yet somehow she knew.
(Ed: Then, for some reason, I went off on this tangent. Don’t know what I was thinking…maybe I’d just had a bad encounter elsewhere that day?-dl)
The most important thing to remember is this:
Whenever you approach someone, realize that you’re bothering them.
Whenever someone approaches you, act like they’re bothering you.
It’s a fine line and there’s a little dance you do in shops when you need assistance. First, you have to bother them, so they have to act bothered back.
Then if they ask you a follow-up question, you need to act bothered back. Most of the time, even more so than they looked when you bothered them. You don’t want them to think you’re more important than they are, do you?
So then they think that you being bothered by them is more important than them being bothered by you.
Got that?
(I have no idea where this one was going, but was found it amusing that in spite of the fact I rarely wear sneakers, and try not to smile, I get pegged as an American without even moving a muscle. Then I kind of segued into a thing about Parisians that I never got back to and even confused myself by the end.
I also like the crosswalk signs, showing a notoriously impatient Parisian with his hands on his hips, waiting indignantly to cross the street. That sign says so much, and I wanted to share a photo of it with a story. But I guess I’ll just have to let the sign speak for itself. -dl)
3 Sure-Fire Ways to Avoid Going Postal in Paris
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