Limits and laughs

I'm not as efficient in this country as I was at home.
Thank heavens I have great friends who come to the rescue when I need help.
Before, if I needed home repairs or movers I could always do negotiations in Spanish or English and the job would be finished, no problem.
Here, I need help.
I have a Tagalog (Filipino) translator, Turkish friend and of course a French friend. Thank God for good friends!!
But sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands.
You need to feel like YOU did something for yourself, instead of others always helping you.
So, out of severe frustration, I got one thing checked off my "To Do List".
I go to the store, A LOT! I know all the ladies. I don't even want to know how much I spend on a weekly basis, Brandon would like this number, not me, I know it's a lot.
The magic number for "Livrasion" (delivery) is 50 Euros. You spend 50 Euros, you get Livrasion.
So today I pull my "chariot" (cart) up to the counter and she says, "Livrasion?". Which I say yes.
As I'm loading the cart, no they don't load it for you here, she says something and I look up. She says it again and points to a fresh new sign on the wall:
"75 euros Livrasion", my total is 68.00.
I give a puzzled look, as if to say, "Are you shitting me!? I'm here all the time and I spend a ridiculous amount of money, we can't make one exception?"
She does not respond to my look.
I ask if I can pay for delivery. She gives me a completely dumfounded look accentuated by the world's worst brows I have ever seen and eyes lines in a fresh shade of blue. I ask again. She says, No.
You know the box you were taught to think outside of in the States?
Well, that box is sealed tight here. No one gets out of the box.
I go for it.
Can I take the "chariot" home and then bring it back?
She looks puzzled again.
I swear it's the brows clouding up her thoughts.
The man behind me steps into rescue me or her, I'm not sure who needed it more.
After a moment, she agrees and then says leave a piece of identity.
I see you everyday. I know the delivery guy. He knows my door code.
Can I lock her in the BOX!?
Yes, I leave my identity and my pride at the Franprix.
Dear Chariot maker of France,
Put a bar at the bottom of the cart so one can maneuver over curbs, bumps and elevators. Also, it would help to balance the dang thing so you are not pushing a wonky cart down the sidewalk!
I now know why my guy just pushes the cart down the road and not the sidewalk. It does not roll well on the sidewalk!
Your laugh is not over yet.
That's me smashed in the tiny elevator with the cart. The acrobatics involved in opening the door and getting the cart and myself out of the elevator where worthy of an audience.


Mary said...

You are cracking me up!!! Did you take the chariot back same day?
If not, I suggest you keep it, put a bar on it and use that one all the time. The boxmindedwoman will explode.....
Way to roll Sista - love ya.

Kerrie said...

First, I saw SNEAKERS and SWEATS omgosh your american pregnant ass is slipping sister. Loved it. Now second, good thing you are moving, 2 more months and you would haver to send the cart up alone lol, I have been in the elevator and a 6mos preggers and that cart would not make it.

Peggy Rice said...

Oh, ladies! Miss Kerrie, you are good. I had just changed out of a dress and boots, because I was going to my foot doctor where I lay down and I didn't feel like giving him a free show;-) Plus I broke two of my twos and they are killing me with all the walking! A few hours later I would be dropped off across the bridge from the bus because of a demonstration, leaving me to walk more than I would like, so I was happy to pull an American in Paris with my sneakers and sweats;-) Viva USA!!! And yes, just a few weeks later I would never fit in that elevator!

Kerrie said...

You don't need excuses with me Peg, you rock that track suit lol. When did you break you toes woman. Holy moly good thing Jordan is coming she can take good care of you. You seriously need it from the sounds of it