Monsieur!

Early March, 2010

I had to buy an  uber vacuum last week. With two huskies and two cats and a wild and semi -jungle yard that sends debris in through the doors and the windows I needed something that could handle the unrelenting stream of hair, leaves, feathers and general dirt pouring into the house.

I went to Manor (think Sears from 40 years ago) and headed to the vacuum section in the House and Home department. There, not far from the vacuums was a man who was idly chatting with a elderly blond lady. As I walked up he turned the full attention of his intent dark eyes on me and raised his eyebrow hopefully.  His resemblance to Hercule Poirot was uncanny - he could have been his brother or cousin. His moustaches were less elaborate than Hercule's yet were similar in visual effect. He looked at me questioningly and had a name tag so I was sure he worked in the store, and I zoomed up to him full speed and asked, "which would be your most powerful vacuum?" He paused for a moment, drew himself up, sighted down his nose at me and reprimanded me, "Monsieur!!!!!"

Unsure of the issue at hand I looked at him apologetically and inquired, "Oui?"

He looked exasperated with me as though I were a slow witted child. Then he demonstrated: he assumed a pleasant expression, nodded to me agreeably and in a neutral tone announced, "Bonjour Monsieur!"

I looked at him numbly for a few seconds then made the connection. "Ah!" I said. I assumed an equally pleasant expression and said back to him, "Bonjour Monsieur!"

Over the following days I quickly learned that this form of greeting is never neglected, not even in case of fire or heart attack! One must always begin conversations this way. We are, after all, civilized human beings, non?

He gave me a tiny nod of approval at this display of proper etiquette and then asked me "How may I be of service?"

I explained I was looking for his most powerful vacuum -  one that could take care of dog and cat hair and dust and ... things. "Of course, Monsieur," he assured me with the absolute confidence of a trained professional. He walked over to the display of vacuums and gestured somewhat grandly to a purple and plastic space-aged looking affair and announced "Le Dyson!" The blond woman he had been talking to tagged along and looked with some surprise and admiration at the vacuum to which we now gave our attention.

I breathed a sigh of relief at the name as we have the same brand back in the states and it is truly an extraordinary machine. "Excellent!" I said. "I'll take it, please."

He asked "Does Monsieur know about the multi layered filtration system?"  (way too complicated in French) and I gently explained that that was not necessary as I knew it was excellent. "Would Monsieur like me to explain the various features of the vacuum?" he queried hopefully. The blond woman who had been listening had her eyebrows raised hopefully too as though she were looking forward to his explanation of the machine's capabilities.

"No", I said, "Thank You. I have this brand in my home in the U.S. and am informed of its capabilities. I know it is marvelous machine."
He was clearly deflated by my response, as was the blond woman who had been following along. What, after all, is the point of being a salesman if one does not have the opportunity to present, to explain, to sell?

He regrouped quickly from this small set back and as he drew a large carton off the shelf below inquired if I desired anything else.

"Do you have a special turbo head for carpet that goes with this machine?"

"Monsieur!" He beamed at me approvingly as if I were a star pupil, and led me to a nearby display that featured an amazing looking attachable vacuum head that resembled a tiny F-117.

He pointed out the items as he described them: high speed rubber bristles that would pick up hair and fibers, adjustable wheels for different height carpet, and a tiny important valve that varied the speed of the brush turbine.

"Very good!" I said. "I definitely need that."

"Alas," Hercule informed me, "This is a special order item, although the vendor is here in the Geneva area."

Hiding my impatience I inquired, "Could we not have the item delivered by tomorrow?"

This time he drew the word out in tiny, long syllables, with a sidelong smirking glance, and chided me, "Monsieur!" he said, either teasing me for my naiveté or admiring my droll sense of Gallic irony - I couldn't tell which.

I continued on. "Will it take two or three days? A week?"

He adopted a neutral expression and said matter-of-factly, "Let us find out."

He went to his station and after a minute of searching through numbers made a phone call. After hanging up he turned to inform me that the part would be delivered to the store the day after tomorrow. I was shocked that the transaction would occur so swiftly.

"Excellent!" I enthused. "That is great news."

I paid for my vacuum and special order part and, carton in hand, thanked him for his assistance.

He drew himself up to full height once again and gave me a tiny formal nod as I left, "At your service, Monsieur!"