Story time…..the bargain battle of Chalon
This is a story for those of you who love a bargain, who thrive on the adrenalin of competing in shop ‘Sales’ and the satisfaction of ‘winning’ a product at a hugely discounted price. I am a veteran of Selfridge’s winter sales, usually amongst the first 20 to enter the doors but all that was rather sedate compared to this French experience.
I am on the hunt for a new dishwasher (le lave-vaisselle, curiously masculine) for one of our rental Apartments.
First the publicité arrives via la boite a lettres, from Carrefour hypermarché in Chalon-sur-Saone Sud. And there it is! A dishwasher marked down from 599 euros to 359. Is that a deal or what? Hmmm, better read the fine print. Yes, it looks the goods but there are only 30 of them. This calls for some serious strategic planning. What’s the start date? Tuesday the 11th. (fortunately today’s date is only the 4th) What time do the doors open? 0830.
What’s the competition? Out of 60 million people in France, how many need a new dishwasher? Chalon-sur-Saone has a population of 77,498 plus surrounding towns/villages, let’s assume 100,000. If we say 0.5% of those are hunting for a new dishwasher, it is 500 too many. Better get there early.
0600, Tuesday 11th. The alarm goes off. Get up, get coffee, have shower. Anne is away in the Netherlands so is being spared all this preparation.
0700, Go through the checklist. Jacket, scarf, gloves, chest protector, elbow guards, running shoes, cheque book, publicité avec photo of lave-vaiselle, newspaper.
0715. Under cover of darkness, move on out of Chaudenay. Crikey, it looks like the whole Saone et Loire department has been mobilised, les voitures (cars) everywhere. How many are heading for Chalon Sud?
0750. Arrive Carrefour car park. Terrain looks good, perhaps a dozen cars, one with a trailer.
0752. Get to the Mall front doors. First dilemma, there are two sets of doors on an angle facing each other. About 8 competitors at one set, about 12 at the other. Survey the scene. There is an interior corrugated security shutter about 15 metres away, once that is opened, which set of external doors will the Security guy open first, to his left or to his right. Logic tells you left, but this is France, I choose the right.
0755. Install myself in the second row, centrally, this holds double advantage you don’t get shuffled to the outsides and the doors open from the centre ensuring you are part of the first surge.
0805. Crowd is building, around 30 in front of each set of doors. Subtly survey those around me. Some hardened professional bargain hunters. This is going to be a serious assault exercise. A couple directly in front of me in the first row, chatting away in Italian, they like their pasta, should be able to easily sprint around them. Though they do have a chariot, (trolley) so elbow pads may come into use.
0813. Crowd has built to 60-80 at each door. No jostling as yet. But what is this. An aggressive young couple are edging themselves forward on my right trying to out flank my position. I causally remove my newspaper from my back pocket, deliberately open it up wide, while at the same time, I subtlely spread my legs astride, flexing my knee, hip and shoulder to the right. The young couple get the message. Do not invade my space.
0819. The crowd is now around 300-400. And are getting restless. Tensions are rising, nervous looks at watches are increasing. I run through my routine for the tenth time. a) get to the white ware section b) focus on mind picture of lave-vaisselle c) ‘tag it’ d) get sales assistant.
0826. A noise erupts behind me, probably some altercation. Don’t be distracted, remain calm, stay focussed. Then I hear someone say, ‘les portes ils ont ouvertes là-bas’. (the doors have been opened over there) What the hell, oh, cat-a bloody-strophe, doors have been opened 50 metres away further down the mall. Just like in Rugby, blimming French never do what you expect them to do.
But we are not deterred, we who were a member of the all conquering Renwick 6th grade Rugby team, and Marlborough College intermediate athletics champion. I hurl myself forward, running, sprinting, head held high, eyes like bullets, arms pumping, thighs thrusting, through one gap, side stepping left, side stepping right, through another gap, fend off one chariot, in through the doors, scorching past the children’s merry go round, dodge another chariot, accelerating down past the long line of check out counters to arrive at the entrance to Carrefour hypermarche. I stand in front of another big corrugated but open weave security shutter. And, I am in the front row.
0828. I stop wheezing from my sprint, eyes get back into focus. 15 metres in front of me I can see the lave-vaiselle, its gleaming white front, its bright rouge et jaune sale sticker, so tantalisingly close. Two Security officers come out, positioning themselves between the shutter and the mob. They tell everyone to retreat one metre. Most do, but then surge forward again as soon as they pass down the line.
0829. The Security guards remain between the animals and the zoo. The security shutter starts to ascend. Conversely a strange quiet descends over the crowd, not a muscle moves.
0830. Its GO!! The 15 metres are covered in 0.01274 seconds. I am first there, I practically put my arms right around it. A Sales assistant looks at me quizzically and suggests I take one of the 30 stickers attached to the side of the appliance (which is how you ‘claim’ it) and to follow him. I did. Mission accomplished!
March 16th, 2007 at 1:57 pm
Wait, wait, wait a minute….Bruce I think I’ve gone batty here. Did you say that you needed a dishwasher or a washing machine? You had me eagerly reading to discover the outcome of the story but the photo there?
Forgive me if I’ve misunderstood…better to go and have a double espresso to get my mind in sprinting order!
March 16th, 2007 at 10:54 pm
Sacre Bleur Bruce, you have lost it, such a wimp! From rugby and running to jousting over a dishwasher, this is taking your domestic duties far to seriously. Get back to more manly pursuits, like hitting the tackle bag instead of your fellow bottom fishers.
March 18th, 2007 at 1:18 pm
Well spotted Rowena, a bit of a boo-boo on my part!! I could claim I did it deliberately to see if anyone noticed, put perhaps I should have left the cork in the bottle between writing the text and choosing the images!!
As for you Monsieur Ross, did you stop to consider the annual sales may be why the French are so good at Rugby. But on second thoughts, the Harrods sale doesn’t seem to do much for the English!
March 18th, 2007 at 4:55 pm
The battle of the Pub….
From you’re first sentence, Bruce, I would say that you are very lucky indeed! You get Pub! Although this has got noting to do with your dishwasher (my wife claims she has one with 2 legs and a beard, hence we do not need one), it adds a bit of interaction on your blog or weblog; needless to say that the logic between those two words completely escapes me ….
When we moved here, in September 2005, we did not get any Publicité. In Holland, our previous Port of Call, one goes to the nearest town hall, where stickers are available in the following two varieties “No, I do not want any unaddressed mail, and no, I do not want any free local papers” and “No, I do not want any unaddressed mail, but yes, I would like to receive all free local papers”. The first one is called a No-No sticker, the 2nd a No-Yes sticker. Stingy and practical as the Dutch are, no sticker at all counts as a Yes-Yes sticker.
I always loved getting all this junkmail, hence I never had a sticker. In France however, this appeared to be different. We had no sticker, but we also never received any Pub at all. And we wanted to know what was on offer at the Atac, Intermarché, Carrefour, etc.
So I set off on my offensive in order to get Pub delivered. We first asked Mrs. Postman, but she was not delivering Pub anymore. Who did it she did not know. I was on friendly (not TOO friendly, though) terms with the Boulangère, and asked her who delivered the Pub. Someone in a red van, she said. If I did not want it, I should put a sticker up, saying “Pas de Pub, SVP”. I explained to her that we wanted Pub.
Next try was the Mairie. Yes, if we did not want it, just put notice up saying “Pas de Pub, SVP”. We explained again, that we wanted Pub. They looked at us as if we were from outer space, and obviously that was the place where the Pub cam from as well.
We suspected that Pub was delivered in Chazelle, our village on Wednesday. There is one postbox there at a maison secondaire of some Parisiens, so I stuck a note on the box begging for Pub. I checked a couple of weeks, and since my sticker no Pub was delivered to anybody in the village anymore. My wife thought this was too Dutch to cope with, so she stayed out of this one. Dutch people are not that easily devastated and/or embarrassed.
The next victim was the Tabac woman. She told me, that the person who delivered was ill, dead or something even more serious, and that the Pub stream had dried up. I was about to give up. But after a couple of weeks Mme Tabac told me, that she knew who delivered, and that she had told the person involved that we wanted Pub. It came once, and that was the end of it. Mme Tabac explained o me that the person who delivered was old, and could not be asked to deliver Pub more than 500 m outside the village. Needless to say that we live at 1000 m.
After a few weeks (I had put up my sticker again) she offered me a deal. I went there every Saturday and Sunday to get our newspaper (don’t laugh, it is the high class Journal de Saône et Loire), and she promised to hold the Pub for me until I collected it. In the beginning it was disappointing, she gave me every Saturday Paru Vendu and 71; but slowly we appeared to be in the system, and now we get all the crap that is distributed around here. Moral of this story: if you get Pub, count your blessings!
March 18th, 2007 at 7:01 pm
I love this! it reminds me of the crazed Japanese housewives in Japan whenever there is a BIG sale! Congratulations on your new washer.
March 19th, 2007 at 9:57 am
Cees, loved your story, and delightfuly written! We always tell people you only need three things to live in France, desire, patience and persistence. Your story was full of all three!
March 19th, 2007 at 10:12 am
Hi Kat,
The first time I visited Japan it took me along time to get into an elevator, I was waiting for the Japanese ladies to enter first (manners my Mum drummed into me) and of course they were waiting for me to enter. From what you say they obviously display different behaviour for shop ’sales’!! And the Metro presumably?!!
March 20th, 2007 at 11:14 am
Hi Bruce,
This is my first time over; I come from Rowena’s blog.
I’am a US expat, who like Rowena came from Hawaii.
Small world…
I’am up much further north in France, outside Paris in the burbs.
You are welcome to stop by our blog
Good for you; you got your dishwasher, but boy, it was rough going!
I have not yet did “les soldes” in such an athletic style!!
I have a nice day,
March 21st, 2007 at 10:28 am
Hi Barbara,
Thanks for dropping in. You Hawaiians love to travel don’t you! Enjoyed checking out your Blog, you’re having lots of fun with it and it is both interesting and informative. Your ‘cluster map’ is tres cool!