The Man with the Pole
When I first moved into my apartment in Aix-en-Provence I was in a panic for days about how I was going to park in the garage. The street is so narrow and the “2 car garage” is really for 2 very small cars.
One day, we had rented a car and we decided that it would be the day to practice parking. At first, I thought I could to do it but after a few tries I couldn’t seem to maneuver the car without nearly hitting a pole that was firmly placed in position across the way. No matter what I did, when I went to turn the wheel I was going to hit that damn pole. It was making the matter impossible.
As always, my neighbor, Jean Marie, popped his head out of the window and explained that the man who owned the garage space below him had placed the pole there and it was permanent. It turns out that it can be removed with the turn of a key but he had the keys and no one else was getting them.
I was told that there was a war going on between my landlord and this man and that it was better to avoid the entire conversation. There was no way that it would be removed and no way that we would be able to ask for a key. With that Jean Marie closed his window while wishing us a “bon journee”
I spent a lot time that afternoon going back and forth until at last, I was finally parked in the garage. Phew! I am a good driver but this really put me to the test. I had a lot of guidance and it helped. I just hoped I’d be able to do it on my own one day.
As I’d heard about the feud between the man with the pole and my landlord, I decided to use the good ol’ tactic of “kill ‘em with kindness”. So, that’s what I did. Whenever I saw him I gave him my big American smile and waved hello. His grumpy face always became a smile and over time he would say hello to me without prompting. We would never be friends but it was cordial.
I would come to find out that the feud is not only with my landlord. It looks like many people on the street don’t like the man with the pole. There is a clandestine hater who keeps painting a “Z” on his garage door. I still don’t understand what it means but it is the talk of the street.
My neighbor, Jean Marie (the man in the window) couldn’t wait to tell me all about it. He doesn’t know what’s going on and who’s the culprit but it looks like someone is out to get the man with the pole.
For a long time things were quiet.
Now, we have new neighbors and they’re unable to park because of the pole. Oh la la! And so it starts…..
My new neighbor asked me when she moved in if I had a key to the pole. I said “Oh no! There is no way of getting a key. The man with the pole will not allow anyone to have a set of keys to his precious pole. It is for him and him only”.
She sighed and was explaining to me how complicated it was for them to get in and out of the garage without hitting the pole.
The very next day, I just so happened to bump into the man with the pole. I was on my way out the door and we nearly crashed into each other. I flashed my toothy grin and he gave me a big bonjour! He even decided to take a walk down the street with me and chat for a bit. Before I knew it, he was talking to me about the pole. He was up in arms because my new neighbors wanted a key to the pole. I looked at him as if in surprise and said “ah bon’?. Hmmm. This was an opportunity.
He explained to me how one time, he had given the keys to one of the neighbors. He was a young guy and he didn’t take care of the pole. He’d throw it against the wall, forget to put it back and often didn’t lock it. He explained all of this to me while at the same time, waving his hands around. He made gestures as if throwing something down on the ground or briskly against the wall. I think he even used his foot at one point as if he was angrily kicking a ball. All of these movements were to emphasize how this young guy was treating his pole. Oh la la.
After he explained this story and why he was unwilling to give up the keys, I very politely tried to tell him that the new neighbors were a lovely couple, they were elderly and he would never have a problem with them. I assured him that they would take care of his pole. He said “No! Never again.” I tried one more time and asked him to think about it. On that note, he put his arms up, high in the air and waved me goodbye with a very loud “Bon journée et au revoir, Madame”. He then took off like a shot. I don’t think that I convinced him.
Later that day, when I returned home, I crossed paths with my new neighbor. I told her that I’d seen the man with the pole that morning She went into a whole story about how she was going to go down to the “Mairie” (town hall) to see if she could get a key to the pole.
She explained that the pole didn’t belong to the man but, in fact, belonged to the town. He was not going to be able to keep his pole.
She then opened the door and we both looked out and she laughed and said “oh la la……someone has painted another “Z” on the garage door”. Apparently the man with the pole had just been there that morning and had repainted his door. Oops! That “Z” looked mighty fresh. We both had a chuckle as if we were in on a big secret.
For now, the saga continues and I wonder how it will end. I am amazed at how such a little thing like a pole has caused so much commotion on our little street. It is a tiny street and just because one man has decided to be selfish and not share, he has created all of this stress for the few people that live here even though he does not!
Z
The freshly painted “Z”