The French seem to have the perfect lifestyle: long lunches, short hours, great food and plenty of ooh-la-la. But their new president is determined to make them work harder, faster, more efficiently - just like the British and Americans. Merde alors, says Stuart Jeffries
It was perhaps the second glass of wine that did it. That, or the dessert of millefeuille aux poires. Or it could have been the blanquette, the bourguignon, the pot-au-feu or whatever Le Firmament in the Rue 4 Septembre in Paris's second arrondissement was offering as the day's special. Whatever. After lunch, I would stroll back to my office, shadowing my eyes from the 3.30pm sun, nod off at my desk over the lunchtime edition of Le Monde, to be awoken by my own snoring. Only then, with the proper morosité of a grumpy Frenchman, would I contemplate returning to work. Unless Nicolas from the economics agency across the courtyard came round and asked if I wanted to have a quick beer, which I often did. I had gone native: I didn't live to work, but worked to live. And live well.
France, when I worked there at the turn of the millennium, seemed a marvellous place. The Protestant work ethic had been refused a work permit and, if one occasionally had a sense that this decadence had something of the last days of the Roman Empire about it, no matter: this was the way to live. Certainly, if you were middle class and in a secure job, the country had it all. It remains substantially the same. There is still the 35-hour week, for a start, even if new president Nicolas Sarkozy has derided it as a "general catastrophe for the French economy".
There is something called making "le pont", which means that if a national holiday falls in the middle of the week, French workers will take off enough days before or after it to extend it all the way to the nearest weekend. Not since Edward Heath's three-day week have the British managed to work so little. And there is none of this American rubbish of two weeks' leave a year in France either: Paris, in particular, is massively depopulated from Bastille Day (July 14) until September as the French head off for at least two months of well-earned eating, drinking, romancing and dozing.
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http://www.guardian.co.uk/france/story/0,,2075293,00.html