So here we are defining à la parisienne

In cookery à la parisienne usually applies to fish, and evokes a creamy sauce based on button mushrooms and carrots. However, it can also mean anything to do with the way things are done in Paris, by the Parisians. There are many defintions and the one I present is my own, though common themes are found across the many adjectives that spring when talking about Parisans : stressed, arrogant, self satisfied, snobbish, rude, agressive, impatient, selfish, individualistic, crappy drivers, bobo, sanctiminious, gay etc etc.

Though I agree with all of these it is always important to take things in context (how can one not be rude with idiot American tourists who want to know if the Latin quarter is when the Spanish live, or arrogant when one ives in such a beautiful city), so my analysis will be more gradual.
(NB All of this is tongue in cheek as I hope you will have realised.)

In everyday life, à la parisienne means conjuring the right amount of superiority with the right amount of passivity to get things done. Let me explain : if one is all smiley and chummy with whoever is behind the desk (or counter, or wheel) one will be taken for a slighty retarded fool and/or be ripped off. On the other hand if one is too dictatorial or disdainful, the object of one's disdain will simply be rude and unhelpful. Not an easy balance to strike.

The trick is to be incredibly formal at first, hence the noted importance of saying Bonjour Madame, Bonsoir, Excusez moi Monsieur (or whatever is relevant) whenever entering in contact wth someone. This is to express respect to the person in front of you, and you do it whether speaking to the head of the office or the dustman. No smiles and jolly jokes or alright mates!, they will take you for a buffoon.

Step two is to clearly explain what you want, still with gravity and formality ("une baguette s'il vous plait Madame", "Pourriez vous me conduire à la gare, svp monsieur?" "Vous serait-il possible de m'accorder un pret mademoiselle?).

Once that is done you finish off with thanks, farewells and wishes of a pleasant evening, and an optional small smile.

So all in all, very formal. So how do the Parisians survive in this climate of formality and logs-in-arse-ishness? Once again the trick (and I speak from personal experience after fifteen years here) is to apply small touches of humour or conversation at certain strategic points. Never before step one of course, as that first contact must be tinged with formality and display of respect, but why not a small comment on the excellence of the smell of the bread in the bakery (who doesn't love flattery? but it must be sincere) That, still said without a smile (this is no laughing matter!), could be added after step two. Equally a small humourous comment (no joke!) could be ventured just before step three. At no point should one seem submissive, condescending, eager, impatient or to give a shit. Especially in the first two cases they will simply become uninterested

If this is properly applied, things should go smoothly and you will probably be appreciated for it. Dozens of repetitions of it with gradual additions of smiles, interesting comments and general class to a given situation will probably get you recognised as an habitué (one who is used to or a frequent user of something, not quite the translation of a local), from whence one can be whatever one likes. The Parisians love a bit of originality, humour and charisma.

A good example of some of this was this morning at the station. Chook and I went to Belgium last May, and bought the train tickets online in April. We never got them in the post so we had to buy them again and Thalys say they would refund us the first ones(this is their policy). Today, July 1st, still nothing so I decided to go to the station.

I was in a fantastic mood having just seen JM Barroso and the arrival of the Eurofficials so even after queuing at the Thalys counter for fifteen minutes I had a grin on my face.
"Bonjour! :)". The eyes of the girl immediately glazed.
"Oui?"
Explanation of problem.
"Hmmmm. You'll have to go and see my collegues at the SNCF. The réclamations desk. Au revoir."

I went of in search of it, but it was nowhere to be found. After circling the main hall or ten minutes I finally found the Acceuil- Welcome desk. A huge old guy was behind the glass screen.
"Bonjour. (no grinning this time)"
"Bonjour Mademoiselle".
Explanation of problem and search for réclamations desk.
"It no longer exists. You'll have to queue at a SNCF counter (estimated tourists and French going on holidays in line: 2000; estimated time before destination: 6 hours).
So I got impatient, big mistake. "Don't you just have a bloody phone number for Thalys so I can call them? I don't want to queue all day at the SNCF counter".
His lip wilted down and he passed me a leaflet with Thalys' postal address, in Brussels.
"Go and see them" he said, and looked over my shoulder to the next customer.

No way was I going to queue 3 days behind a million Japanese and American tourists who do not speak French and need some hideous ticket combo that will allow them to visit Antwerp and Bruges with special museum deals. So I went back to Thalys and the girl who had sent me in to the wild.

"Bonjour Mademoiselle." Definitely no grin.
"Bonjour Mademoiselle, there is no réclamations". I let my mouth go into a slight bored pout.
"Did you queue at the SNCF desk?"
"No." I was unapologetic.
At that she asked to look at my refund ticket. While she was I casually told her I needed the money to go on holiday in August. (These holidays are sacred in France). We don't have enough money otherwise; need to get tickets.
She looked up and nodded. I yawned through my teeth and told her that 2 months for a refund of their cock-up was a lot.
She nodded again and disappeared, taking the phone. Five minutes later she came back, put down her phone and nodded grimly. It'll be in your account between tomorrow and the next week.
"Merci Mademoiselle". I let a small smile escape.
She smiled back and asked where I was going, and added she was off to Colmar in a week.