Is that for here or to go?

My pal J, who is also spending the summer in France, suggested that I blog about this incident.  Indeed, it is revealing about the French v. American systems, and about how deeply ingrained certain attitudes can be.  Generally speaking, this event falls under the broad category of "not better or worse, just different," yet it took me a little while to see it that way.

When:  Thursdsay, lunchtime

Where: Boulanger Paul, near the Opera House
      Boulanger Paul is actually a chain of bakery/restaurants; they are now all over France (I had lunch at one in Colmar back in March) and possibly all over Europe (there are several in London, I noticed last year).  In spite of its franchise nature, it is actually an excellent bakery.  This is obvious when you see, at lunchtime, a long line of well-dressed business people -- and not badly dressed tourists -- waiting to place an order at Paul.   If Parisians are willing to queue for something, take note!  It's likely to be something good.

What:  The French like the concept of a "value menu" -- here it would be called a "formule" or even a "menu" or, as we might know it, a "prix fixe" -- in most cases, it involves more than one course and a beverage (so the McDonald's burger + fries + coke for a few cents less than ordering those things individually is right up their alley).  Paul has a number of formule, based on the kind of main dish you order (mainly, how elaborate your sandwich is, but they also serve salads). 

As I mentioned, the place is hopping at lunch time, with most people getting their food to go (à emporter, to carry or take-away as the British say).  The line moves swiftly, so decision-making must be timely or you risk the ire of those behind you in line as well as the staff behind the counter.  This was a spotty day, weather wise; it had rained a bit early and threatened to do so again, so I wasn't keen on taking my lunch with me somewhere and getting drenched.  So I order my formule (tuna sandwich, sparkling water, and a pastry) and say that I want to eat sur place (the opposite of "to go," or what know as "for here.")  "Oh, non," says the woman behind the counter, "the formule are only à emporter."
In the words of Amy Pohler and Seth Meyers, Really? 

I am a little ticked.  That means that the exact same food that I'd be taking with me is now going to cost me a couple of euros more just because I want to sit down.  Now, I know this is true at cafés, where sitting down with your coffee means you can "rent" the table for hours on end, but Paul is not a café.
In any event, I am directed to sit down at a table.  Which I do, still a little bit miffed.

Then a staff person comes with my lunch.  My sandwich has been cut in half and nicely presented on a real dish, with a healthy helping of green salad to boot.  I feel a litle bit better.  Then I get a carafe of water in addition to my sperkling, so I have much more to drink than I would have in the park (have I mentioned that I am always parched in Paris?).  Then my pastry is delivered to my table in a little basket (it was delicious.  So was the sandwich).  Then, the server comes back and asks me if I'd like a coffee.  I say, "Oui, s'il vous plaît."  Definitely no coffee forthcoming at the park, and I have no coffee maker at home as of yet, so I have been missing coffee.  It comes, in a lovely little cup, with a beautiful little meringue on the side.  Nice touch.

The coup de grâce comes with the check, however.  As  I take a look (the coffee was only like 1 euro 20 -- really reasonable!), I realize what an American boob I am.  Why must I pay more to sit down?  How long have I spent in France? The service is INCLUDED, you idiot! I got waited on, sitting there in the dining area.  At home, I would be adding 15% to the damn check anyway, without complaint.  I did leave a little extra next to my coffee cup, as is customary, but everything felt right again.  Plus, there was that meringue.  Life is good.