…but you do have to deal with endless red tape. And remember that English is not the lingua franca.
Most people move to France in order to do as little as possible. The adage has always been that you go to England to earn money and come to France to spend it.
Once here, working is the last thing on any expatriate’s mind. How can you possibly do anything when every Monday is a bank holiday, the shops seem to be closed for longer than they are open, and everything stops for a two-hour lunch?
At first, you find this frustrating; then you find it reassuringly civilised; eventually, you can’t imagine living any other way.
For those of you planning to rebel and actually do some work in France, there are two options: get a job or set up a business. Getting a job is tricky. English qualifications are not always valid, and that’s unlikely to change, whatever the outcome of next week’s final round of presidential elections. Even with the right qualifications, you will need to speak fluent French, unless you’re planning to get a job in an English pub or a Best of British shop.
But prepare for surprises. Of course, we all know that the French are madly bureaucratic; indeed, one of the most irritating things about living here is that without the right piece of paper, life can be practically impossible. But one friend of mine was amazed at just how flexible this famous bureaucracy can be. On his first visit to the Montpellier chamber of commerce, he was told that, as he was married, his wife also needed to sign the papers before he could start the business. “But she lives in England,” he told the woman dealing with his inquiry. “She’s not coming over for another three months, and I want to get started with my business.”
The woman looked at her computer, then back at my friend. “Are you known to us?” she asked.
“No,” he said. “ Bon,” she said with a wink. “From now on, you’re single.”
Another English friend of mine moved to France seven years ago to set up a building business. He says that on his first visit to the chamber of commerce, he was told that he would need to hide at least a third of what he earned – otherwise he would never make a profit.
“I thought I must have misunderstood her,” he says. “But she was speaking English, so there was no way that I’d got it wrong. And I didn’t follow her advice to the letter – in fact, you have to hide at least half.”
Part of the reason that it is difficult to make a profit in France is the enormous social costs you have to pay. If you employ someone, you pay the same amount as their salary again in charges that cover sickness leave, pensions, maternity leave and just about every other eventuality. France is only half-jokingly known as the sole functioning communist state.
As soon as you register a new business, you pop up on the radar screens of the tax, social-security and pensions authorities. The last two will inundate you with invoices, even if your business has yet to make a penny. As one budding entrepreneur says: “So far this year, I have made a negligible profit and paid out more than €4,000 in social costs. I dread the letters from them – they’re never good news.”
I know how he feels. In France, it is not the taxes I fear, but the monthly bill from the social security, which runs into hundreds of euros.
When Patrick, another friend of mine, set up a house-search business (www.primelanguedoc. com), he was immediately asked to contribute to a pension fund. He pointed out that as he was already retired, and receiving a pension from Britain, it seemed a little ridiculous to be paying into another one.
“This was to no avail,” he says. “I assume that when I retire for the second time, I will receive a monthly payment that will probably be enough to buy a rather mediocre bottle of wine now and then.”
Four years ago, David Hammond set up Burgundy Discovery, which offers wine-tasting tours. He also writes articles about running businesses in France. He says, quite rightly, that we must adapt to the French way rather than expect them to change to suit us. “It seems some Brits have a brain bypass when they get here,” he says. “Don’t blame the French system. Basically, nothing’s changed since Napoleon, so don’t think it will change for you. It’s also amazing how many people are genuinely shocked to discover that the accountant, bank manager, mayor and all other officials in France actually speak French, not English.”
Having said that, some French institutions seem keen on attracting English-speakers. I received a letter from my bank offering an English-speaking service, but maybe that’s just in the hope that I will explain to them when we’re going to pay off our overdraft. There are also often English-speakers on hand at regional chambers of commerce to help out should you need assistance.
Patrick advises anyone thinking of starting a business to fill in the numerous forms needed at the local chamber of commerce, rather than sitting at home with a dictionary, getting confused and losing the will to live. “I found the staff extremely helpful,” he says, “especially if you adopt the role of the poor uneducated foreigner who needs help.” You could also try the Franco-British chamber of commerce (www.franco britishchambers.com).
Even once you have set up your business, there is no guarantee that you will get any customers. Another friend, James, who lives in the Loire, set up a gardening and swimming-pool business a couple of months ago. “I put in a dedicated hotline at home to answer calls from clients,” he says. “So far, it has rung three times. The first time it was someone thanking me for dinner, then someone trying to sell me cheaper phone calls, then, finally, a wrong number.”
Sounds ideal, now summer’s almost here. Who wants to do any work, anyway?