The British like to think that they invented queuing and that they are the only people who know how to do it properly.

While that may once have been true, the claim no longer seems as valid as it may once have been. Probably the British self-image of orderly queues of infinitely patient people stems from the Second World War and the rationing period that extended for some years afterwards. Then, even the rumour of the possible arrival of some scarce supply was enough to cause queues to form long before the relevant shop opened. In such circumstances, patience and orderliness became inevitable, and the self-discipline seems readily to have carried over into queues for buses, for one’s turn at the Post Office counter or at the doctor’s surgery. Along with this went the condemnation of the queue-jumper, as offensive to the British sense of fair play.

While some of this persists, you have only to try to catch a bus in Oxford Street or a rush hour tube to see that the orderly polite tradition of waiting one’s turn has given way to a mad scramble. Everyone seems to be pushing and shoving to get on first, despite the unavailing calls of the staff to ‘Let the passengers off first, please’. Londoners, of course, are inclined to blame this indiscipline on ‘foreigners’, presumably on the grounds that, not being British, such people know no better. Whoever may have originally been at fault, it is plain that, when it comes to such a melee, Londoners are capable of giving as good as they get.

In contrast, queuieng in France, which once would have seemed almost unthinkable, is now a normal part of life. Not only have the French adapted to the process, they have done so with a surprising degree of good humour. The phenomenon is to be observed most readily at the check-outs of hypermarkets and supermarkets. The bigger ones have large numbers of check-outs sufficiently manned to avoid long queues except at the busiest times. They also have specially designated ones for pregnant women or people with handicaps: while anyone may use these, it is noticeable that priority is always granted to those for whom they are intended.

A useful feature of these large outlets and one I don’t recall have encountered in Britain are exits for people who, having looked around, have not bought anything. Unfortunately, this eminently sensible idea has not yet filtered down to those supermarkets boasting the lowest prices. Because they also have fewer check-outs, and those more erratically staffed, the non-purchaser may be forced to queue up behind long lines of high-piled trolleys simply to escape. Sometimes it may be possible to get out through the entrance when someone else is coming in, but even that won’t work if the entrance is by turnstile rather than gates.

It has to be said that French check-out queues tend to move more slowly than those in Britain. The reason for this is that French customers appear to feel it unnecessary to begin to look for their purses, cards or cheque-books until every last item has been weighed, priced, bagged and stowed into the trolley. Payment by cheque, now rare in such circumstances in the UK, is quite common in France. Bank cards are normally debit, rather than credit, cards and so are equivalent to paying by cheque, if faster. Most check-outs will print the cheque for you, but the process still requires a search for one or more proofs of identity, whose details have to be painstakingly copied out by hand on to the back of the cheque by the cashier.

The French queuers are normally docile while the hunt for cheque-books, ID papers and pens goes on. It is noticeable that those who become most restive at such times are foreigners and, it appears, particularly the British, who stand with their cards at the ready well before the check-out conveyors become available to them. Even they, however, have mostly learned the agreeable habit of letting people with only one or two items of shopping to go through first – queue-jumping by consent.

Another place where queues tend to build up is at the information counters of large DIT stores. Because these have to deal with complaints, returned goods and all sorts of general advice and information, they are often busy. Some now have delegated much of the advice and information functions to desks in each department, which sounds like a good idea until you realise that they rely for manning on shop assistants who may be busy elsewhere, replenishing stocks or helping customers in their aisles.

Recently we were buying tiles in a large DIY store, where several people were waiting for attention at an unmanned departmental desk. A sign warned that, when purchasing tiles, it was necessary to obtain a chit from the desk before taking the goods to the check-out. Despite a long wait before an assistant appeared, those waiting were cheerful and uncomplaining, joking and chatting to one another. When our turn came, it was to be told that, for the particular kind of tiles we were buying, no chit was necessary and that we could take them straight to the check-out. In Britain, I feel sure, the general reaction would have been one of sympathetic outrage. Here, the entire crowd of waiting customers simply dissolved in helpless laughter. ‘C’est typique, non?’

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This article first appeared in the January 2007 issue of The Connexion, the newspaper for English-speakers in France. To order a free trial copy of The Connexion click here.