-’And how long have you been working in France, Ms Keeren ?’ Used to this question I answered it as precisely as I could. ’18 years and 7 months, Madame and Iworked for different companies’. After a vague ’bonjour’, Madame Dufour, who was the head of the language department of UL, a school in the suburbs of Paris, had got straight to the point. No small talk like in Anglo-saxon cultures, a waste of time in France. – ’Ok ok, but what brings you today to apply for a job in English teaching at my Institute ? The lady I was facing made me think of one of my high school teachers who had made our whole class suffer.

-’ You’re sure ? Why shouldn’t I start showing them some pictures of my achievements ?’ Gerald Adler looked at his coach, Peter, ’In the US it’s something we do all the time, I can tell you’, he added with a broad smile. -’ Yeah, in The US, but here you are in Germany and the interview is your only chance to convince them that they need you. It’s crucial that you focus on what you can do for the company, you understand ?’ As a job coach, Peter Baumgartner knew quite well how to prepare applicants for an interview, some basic elements making the difference, in particular when foreigners were looking for a job here. – ’Don’t be late, not even one minute, but don’t arrive too early either’, was always his first piece of advice.

’Sorry guys for being late, an endless phonecall from France’.

The three people around the table nodded with understanding, waiting for Ken to sit down. – ’Did you manage to draw up a shortlist ?’ PKD Communication was looking for a qualified sound engineer, a search that had been more complicated than expected. – ’Yes, three of the eight candidates are still in the run, one woman, two men’. The answer came from Robert Lane, the HR director who waved a paper as if to applaud his words. – ’Then let’s have a closer look at our final selection’. Kenneth Dawson who was the owner and CEO of PKD, looked around the table in the big meeting room with view on Hyde Park.

‘Why a Canadian girl like me is not entitled to vote in that civilized country of yours?’ It was not the first time that Lisa raised the subject with her colleague Karlijn. ‘All my friends living in The Hague will be going to the polls on 21st March even those without a Dutch passport. Look at Dorothy, who voted already for the municipal council here, four years ago, it’s not fair!’ Karlijn smiled ‘the problem is not you being Canadian, but your American friend has been living for ages here, whereas you arrived only 3 years ago. I don’t know how things in Canada are, but in The Netherlands, a non- EU citizen must have legally resided without interruption, for five years’.

‘Such a double sofa would be the perfect solution in a curtained-off area’, Maarten smiled, space- saving design being his job. – ‘You may be right, but would there still be enough space for a small wardrobe?’ Like the others, Bénédicte had visibly been enjoying the excellent meal at Harvest, a renowned restaurant in the 12th district of Paris. ‘What do you think, Ian?’ – ‘Your wardrobe will fit in, like all the rest, Bénédicte, seven years that we have been working together now’. Lunch had been delicious, time to pay. That’s at least what Ian Burk told himself to discover that he had forgotten his American Express in the office. ‘Would you mind paying, Maarten, don’t worry, you’ll get your money back’.

’Incredible, January arrives and again it’s about hell!’ Susan sounded serious when addressing her husband, as usual deep in thought. He looked up, not surprised by his wife taking the news at face value. ’Journalists seem to doubt the good outcome of our resolutions, every year the same!’ JUrgen burst out laughing, a German designer softly teasing his American wife . ’Think darling of all the good intentions you have, I’m confident this time!’ Nothing could be furtherfrom the truth as far as his own resolutions were concerned. Eager to give them a laundry list of resolutions, Susan loved to chat with her friends about fitness, losing weight and learning Italian. Forgotten about her last attempt to learn German that had been quite a disaster. JUrgen had never forced her to adopt his language, particularly in Berlin where nearly everyone spoke English. Not like nowadays in Rome, where she often seemed at a bit of a loss. Unfortunately learning languages was not exactly an American strength.

With a gesture, Marieke switched off the radio. She felt lonely now that Sinterklaas had come back to The Netherlands. On NPO Radio 1 it had been like ‘smelling’ the Pepernoten – those tiny spiced cookies the Dutch were so fond of at Saint-Nicolas. Ten years of marriage with Pierre, her French husband, had changed her life, in France of course but even more since they had settled down in Bergen. Both Jonathan and Elsa were born in Norway and looked so happy when playing with the nordic kids at the local school. Initially she had thought that living in a similar culture would have been easier than life in Paris which, unfortunately proved to be wrong.

I still remember my first business meetings in France. How surprised I was to see some of my colleagues arriving late at all times. I had been lucky to find a job as a buying assistant for a Canadian Buying Office in Paris. Being educated in The Netherlands I found it normal to be on time, as it was for our German boss and the international staff from London and Toronto. But since we were all people from very different horizons, we didn’t have the same perception of time. That’s at least what I discovered, years later, when doing research on time perception for my lectures at Sorbonne University, it all became clear. I didn’t tell you yet, but the latecomers then were mainly the French and Italian staff.