20.09.09: Say it with me now, "Assugrin."

Today is one of those days that compiling a sentence in French is nearly impossible. My lips start moving and pause... I stand there thinking: okay, the verb is... and the “je” form... Now make it negative. How the hell do I say that word? Okay, calm down, is there another way I can say that word? Now, wait, what was I even trying to say in the first place?? Followed by... Hurry up! Hurry up! Say something. Say anything. Oh please make sense, please understand me. Don’t look at me like everything I just said was totally gibberish, although I doubt I said anything correctly beyond “Je...”

Yeah, one of those days.

Granted, I’m tired. I didn’t sleep as much as I should have--ha, story of my life--and it’s just an off day. I understand that. We all have them. And I was going about my work just fine until the asshole walked in. He sat down in the cafe part of the restaurant (where only drinks and croissants are served), and I asked him what he’d like.

“Qu’est-ce que vous desirez a boire, Monsieur?”

Barely taking the time to look at me, he responded gruffly, “Un cafe au lait.”

Cool, easy, I can do that with my eyes closed. I bring him his coffee with sugar and a chocolate and he gives me the sugar and says something else that I don’t understand. Okay, whatever. He doesn’t want the sugar. I take the packet, smile, and walk back to the counter. Two minutes later he hits the window that connects the cafe to the bar/coffee counter. That was rude. I run to his table and he says the same thing. This time I can decipher it, but I still don’t understand. “Assagrin.” I repeat it to Ali and he hands me two little packets of sugar supplements, like Equal or Splenda but the Swiss version. I apologize, hand them to the man and as I’m walking away, he adds, “Si tu veux travailler en Montreux, tu doit apprendre la francais.” Translation: “If you want to work in Montreux, you should learn French.” Mother fucker. I’m trying!!! Oh, and I’m sorry that I didn’t know the name of the brand of sugar you wanted. Sorry that you can’t annunciate and that I didn’t learn what Assagrin was in my French classes at USD.

And the rest that followed in my mind I’ll keep to myself. I can understand why he would be upset if hadn’t uttered a word to him and instead stood there frozen at the sound of him speaking French to me. But no, not even close. I kept telling myself that it wasn’t a big deal. This guy was probably just having a bad day or was generally an angry person who felt better when everyone around him was angry and pissed off too. Maybe it was the fact that I was already having a tough day speaking French or had gotten up for work at 5 am that morning, whatever the reason, his comment really got to me. No, I didn’t start crying or anything like that, but it stung and I let it affect the rest of my work which frustrated me even more.

I played over several different scenarios in my mind--one that involved throwing his coffee in his face, another requiring good aim and a handful of baby jam jars that we use for the breakfasts--and the pseudo violence made me feel slightly better. But really, why was such a comment necessary? And of course I starting thinking about the comments I heard all the time while living in San Diego. Derogatory comments about Mexican workers that always made me feel uncomfortable. If I could go picketing right now, I totally would. Too bad I don’t have any poster supplies. Or know any other angry American workers in Montreux. All I can say is this: next time, I’ll be ready. And my French will be better. And the asshole? Oh, I have plenty of witty but oh-so-classy remarks saved up for the perfect moment. No, I’m not a vengeful person--or only just a tad--but rather too proud to be left looking like a dumb American which I know I’m not. I guess any situation that leaves me more motivated to learn this language is a positive one. Humph. Another day, another asshole, another lesson learned. Whew.