How to Quit a French Job

David and I have this favorite movie called Haiku Tunnel.  It's kind of like an Indie Office Space.  In one scene, the primary character quits his job with a brief, six word letter to his boss:

Dear Bob,

I quit.

Sincerely, Josh

Of course, Haiku Tunnel is an American film.  Anyone employed in France would never have the luxury of such an easy exit.

You know how in the States, we're required to give two weeks' notice before leaving a job?  In France, it's three months.  Months!   This can be negotiated, of course, depending on how quickly one's employer can find a replacement.  For example, when David gave his notice in mid-October, he requested to be released on the 10th of December and his employer begrudgingly agreed. 

I, however, was not so lucky.  Or else I'm just a bad negotiator.  I'm required to finish the whole three months, which means that I have to come back to France after the holidays to work two more weeks.  I don't know what irritates me more - having to leave David behind while he starts his new job and our new life in Pittsburgh, or paying for another flight and making lodging arrangements in France for two weeks.  I guess it could always be worse - I could have to stay longer. 

Aside from haggling over the last day of work, one must follow formal procedures to quite a French job.  We each had to write official letters to our respective human resources departments (thank you, Google!), and have them posted by certified mail. 

Then, after our letters had been received, our employers sent back formal letters to inform us that they have received our resignations.  These were also sent with certified mail, which meant that the letters couldn't be dropped in our post box but had to be delivered with a signature of receipt.  And because we're at work when the postman drops by, we got in our box a little slip of paper that said "Come pick up your letters!" and I had to leave work early one day, rush to the post, queue for half an hour, and sign for them. 

We've since learned that quitting anything in France requires a formal letter.  None quite so serious as a resignation letter, but a proper Monsieur, Madame form nonetheless.  David has written letters to quit our apartment insurance, bank, cable, even the stupid gym. 

Earlier this week I walked to the town hall and asked permission to park a moving truck in front of our building.  Even though I was standing in front of the woman who needed only to open a file and press "PRINT", she requested a letter.  I grabbed a nearby piece of paper and a pen, scrawled a formal letter - block return address, Monsier, Madame, "sincerely", the whole nine yards - in bad French, too - and she accepted it with a smile. 

And this is how to get what you want in France:  no matter how illogical, just do the paperwork.