Yesterday, Kathryn and I each received a letter from a business we patronized during our recent trip to Montpellier. She wasn’t home from work yet when I brought in the mail, so I opened mine, read it, and left hers unopened.
When Kathryn got home, she opened her envelope, looked at it, and asked, “What am I supposed to do with this?” I was in another room at the time and didn’t see her letter.
Being my usual smart-ass self, I said, “I’d tell you just to read it, but it’s in French, so I know you won’t even try.”
This confused her even more.
The letters appeared identical from the outside. However, although my letter was entirely in French, hers was entirely in English. Same message, different language. Even the insert was translated.
The business must note its customers’ preferred languages in its database. However, it’s odd that I’d be noted as a French speaker. All but about 15 seconds of our conversation with the manager and her assistant were in English.
And the only French part of the conversation was to thank them for speaking English.