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I’VE HAD THE PAINS—BUT WHERE’S THE PROFIT?
When
Vermonter Alan Ranklin decided to go into business here he didn’t
realise what awaited him. If you’ve got similar ambitions, listen up...
Some two and a half years ago I arrived on the Côte d’Azur, family
in tow, full of optimism, eyes wide open and armed with a sparkling new
business venture and capital to invest. Prior to my decision to
relocate here, I did the necessary due diligence—a market survey, a
competitive analysis, cost of living analysis, a best/worst case
scenario and more than a few visits to the expert comptable, law
office, Chamber of Commerce, etc. Such steps are necessary for any new
business venture, but even more so when you are changing countries and
cultures. This proper due diligence likely saved me from failure. It
did not, however, shield me much from hassle and headache, largely
because there is simply too much of it here and no one is immune. If
you are thinking about starting a business in France you’d better be
prepared to suffer the consequences. Being an entrepreneur in this
country is painful and not all that profitable.
People often ask me what I would do differently if I could do
it all over again. The answer is nothing. But while I cannot say that I
regret my decision to “entreprendre” here, I can say I am highly
disappointed in France as a place to do business. It has little to do
with the French as people—they are a highly creative lot and most of my
customers are genuinely nice people. It has all to do with the system
imposed upon small businesses, fairly ironic in a country that invented
the word entrepreneur. There are myriad rules and regulations which
irritate me from time to time, and four key areas which make my blood
boil.
1. Bureaucracy: I was raised to believe that where there’s a
will, there’s a way. The French version of this is more brains than
brawn—it’s called “le systeme D,” i.e. the back door, the way
around the obstacles. In France, when there’s a will, there is
paperwork. Each time you make a business decision or solve a problem,
there will likely be a form to fill out. If you hate paperwork, don’t
come here, or be prepared to pay someone else to handle it. I am often
asked by French friends what I have learned in setting up my own
business. My answer leaves them unhappy. Yes, of course, I have learned
a lot, but most of what I have learned is not relevant anywhere else in
the world. Vive l’exception française!
2. Culture: In Anglo-Saxon countries money is often an easy
subject to discuss. In France, it is taboo. People often ask me how
business is going. I cry poor. And it’s closer to the truth because the
system is designed to prevent people from getting rich. The powers that
be are suspicious of initiative and seek to control it. Small
businesses are difficult to control and, according to them, don’t
really serve a useful purpose because entrepreneurs are generally
scoundrels and cheaters who under-declare their earnings by nature.
This attitude trickles down to the lowest level of hierarchy, where
low-level bureaucrats often assume (and wrongly so) that those who
choose to work for themselves have a higher standard of living than
those who don’t. You will realise this when one comes knocking on your
door to “control” you. Remember, it’s not called an audit or
inspection, it’s called a “control.”
3. Taxes: Yeah, I know: Birth, death, taxes. But why are there
so many of them here and why are they so opaque? Such taxes include
(but are not limited to): La taxe professionelle, le taxe
d’apprentissage, les caisses de retraite, les charges sociales, les
contribution sur la social, le médecin du travail, taxe de chômage,
taxe d’habitation, impôts foncier, annual fees to the Tribunal of
Commerce (about 45 euros if someone does it for you, and it’s required
by law), and for retailers there is even a tax if you play music in
your shop. I am sure there are others, but I haven’t yet been hit with
a bill for them. Besides the sheer number of them, you need to have
studied at Ecole Polytechnique to understand how they are calculated. And where does the money go? Les charges sociales is simply a black hole. In French, there is no proper translation for taxpayers’ money. The nearest is “l’argent de l’état” (the State’s money). This should give you an idea of who is the boss here.
4. Litigation: I once thought of America as the most litigious
place on earth. I still do. However, I think France is not far behind.
I am grateful that there is no real notion of punitive damages here. In
business though, working out differences (even for small sums of money)
is more often than not settled in court and involves huissiers, sending
registered letters, saving post-marked envelopes and other tedious
tasks. I have lied through three law suits during my stay here
(professional and/or personal). I won them all, but it cost money,
stressed me out beyond belief and took up too much time. The losers had
hoped that I didn’t understand the system and that I’d lose my patience
and back off.
Voilà. Keep in mind that these are the four things that bother
me most. There are things that may bother you more. Rather than simply
cry and complain, you should look for ways to lessen the pain. But
that’s for another time.
From Reporter Issue 96
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