They take the whole business of service extremely seriously out here.
Waiters pride themselves on their competence rather than on their charm- a relief when one is accustomed to the opposite- in my grumpy old man hood I would take competence over charm any day.
Likewise in shops they pride themselves in being extremely familiar with their products and like nothing better than a long discussion with a customer on the merits and demerits of the product being purchased- often to the extreme annoyance of the grumpy old man who is next to be served.
I once spent a full ten minutes in a supermarket waiting in a queue while the lady in front of me discussed with the cashier which particular brand of incontinence pads she should buy for her mother.

Likewise when an appliance is delivered here, be it fridge or dishwasher, the appliance has always to be checked by the engineer who delivers it to make sure it performs correctly.

Once while a man who was delivering a fridge was waiting for it to cool correctly he heard my washing machine bouncing about as it span.
He went over to it, stopped the cycle, readjusted the legs, then re started it again, smiling as it ran smoothly.
There is something there in a pride of service which I find impressive.

As the Petit Fils, Fionn, is coming out for a week next week Síle and I went out to buy a few things for his arrival- principally a car seat and a gate to stop him falling down the stone steps from the terrace.

So we went in to the Autour du Bebe shop to make these purchases.

Perhaps at this stage I should admit that the grumpy old man thinks of himself as a decisive shopper, quick to make up his mind and, unlike his wife, he does not see any reason to discuss, evaluate, assess, weigh, feel and otherwise finger all 49 different brands of car seat before plumping for the one which we had seen first.

But Síle and the vendor were both of the one mind that this was the correct way to make a sale and after a little while they both ignored me totally.

Once the decision had finally been made (did I say that having picked a model they spent a further ten minutes picking an appropriate colour?) and Síle had been assured that “Yes it connected easily to the seat belt ” (unlike car seats in the seventies -pre-seat-belt- which had to be welded into the chassis)
She then smiled at Síle and said “Would you like me to fit it in your car for you ?”
And she did.
That is French service.