Wednesday 27 October 1999

Tips for franchisees

But if all else fails, call in 60 Minutes
PEGGY CURRAN
The Gazette

Remember, it's all about fairness. You mustn't think the government's current plan to target trade names, which tend to be overwhelmingly English, has anything to do with rousing language watchdogs who somehow slept through last week's wake-up call in Knowlton. It's couldn't be about rekindling high anxiety and mass hysteria in those of us who were doing our damnedest to ignore the latest flare-up in the language wars. Nor is it designed to give fresh ammunition to a nationalist movement that had slipped into a deep funk.

Indeed, to suggest such a thing would be paranoid. No, Quebec merely wants to make sure its language laws apply equally to small, homegrown businesses and the proliferation of franchises that have set up shop in the 20 or so years since the language law took effect. The Parti Quebecois government has no intention of softening regulations for merchants who actually live here, pay taxes and vote (although rarely for it). Nor will it turn a blind eye to minor infractions. So the only alternative is to crack the whip on shops and businesses that have heretofore hidden behind the shield of a legal trademark and international cachet.

Warrior Princess

In trying to bend American conglomerates to her cultural agenda, Louise Beaudoin, cabinet minister and warrior princess of the unwelcome apostrophe, has probably bitten off more than she can chew. We live in the age of the global village, when it often feels as if everyone on Earth lives in the same village, eats the same Happy Meals and wears the same floppy cargo pants.

Still, there's something noble, if naive, about anyone who decides to take on the world wide web of sameness - even if it's only by disguising franchisation with francization.

So in the spirit of co-operation, here are a few tips for foreign investors and franchise-holders who might be willing to comply with the linguistic edict but don't know where to begin - having succeeded until now in putting their stamp on every mall and commercial strip from Cleveland to Calcutta without a whimper.

Go with the flow: Let local signposts be your guide, and try to capture the flavour of this place. Frankly, you can't go wrong with anything that starts with Chez, as in Chez Paree or Le Roi, as in Le Roi du Smoked Meat, Le Roi du Broadloom or Le Roi des Pointes de Pizza. Other favourites are Le Chateau, Le Chalet, La Cave and La Cabane. Example: "We went to Le Roi de Hambourgeois and I ordered fries and a Tres Grand Mensonge."

Literal translation: Simple, straightforward and cheap. Roots would become Racines; Nickels would become Cinq Sous. Microsoft becomes

Microdouce and Dunkin' Donuts becomes Beignes Plonges. As in: "The police apprehended the boxers as they made their getaway from Beignes Plonges."

Poetic license. Not all names will lend

themselves to translation with equal ease. Would The Body Shop by any other name - La Cave

de Corps or La Carrosserie - smell as sweet? Would The Gap have the same appeal if it was Le Trou or L'Interstice? Translating slang poses its own headaches, as language poobahs are especially sensitive to use of bad French.

Acceptable: Replace Toys R Us with Nous Sommes les Jouets. Not acceptable: Replace

U-Haul with C'est toi qui Traine.

Pardon my French. There might be times when the language of Moliere just won't do the job. In such instance, you can always make it up. It's not the best solution, of course, but inspectors are apt to be lenient, particularly if it doesn't look like English. Which means Haagen Dazs and

Yogen Fruz are in, clever misspellings of English words are out.

Pardon my investment. Should all else fail and negotiations to find a mutually agreeable name for your enterprise lag, threaten to take your money and run. Better yet, squeal to 60 Minutes. You might find authorities suddenly quite accommodating. After all, it's not as if you live here.