What's in a name?

This country is full of contradictions. We all have hedges or fences around our gardens, but the neighbors are often peeking over to see what we are doing. Daily French meals are not the multi-course affairs that most Americans imagine. The list goes on. One thing that doles not seem to be a contradiction is the protection of one's privacy. I went to the post office today to pick up a package. It had been sent in my husband's name, not mine. I've never had any trouble picking up a package before and wasn't expecting any today. There I go thinking again ...

The lady at the post office was pleasant enough, and quite ready to help me out. She asked for my ID, and the "problems" started. My first name didn't match the name on the pick-up slip. The factrice (post office lady) started to tell me that she couldn't let me have the package. Now, she had my ID with my married name and address on it. Those pieces of information match Husband's name and address. Should be easy, right? Not quite so easy!

Hmm ... I needed that package to get my microwave working again. What now?

What now is the fantastic French mail system. Once upon a time we had to sign papers that allowed the postal system to release Husband's packages to me and vice versa. The factrice asked if we had filled these forms out so that she could give me Husband's package. As soon as I said Yes, she punched a few buttons on her computer and Voila! There it all was - his name, my name, our kids' names, all okay for me to pick up. EXCEPT that the name on the package didn't EXACTLY match the name in the computer. The computer read "Husb" instead of "Husband" as the package label read. She actually hesitated, considering whether or not she could give me the package!!

Thankfully the factrice was in a good mood and decided that I was being honest when I said that "Husb" is an American nickname for "Husband." And my microwave is working like a charm.