Zoe 1, Bureaucracy 0

Hurrah! After putting it off for four months, I've finally managed to organise social security, and it was relatively painless.

I'd been avoiding it for as long as possible, since my previous experiences with French bureaucracy threatened to end up with a bodycount that would make the average episode of Midsomer Murders look tame, and just about every French person I've met had warned me that civil servants were much, much worse. They have complete job security, which is not related in any way to job performance, and generally regard themselves as demi-gods. The fate of us mere mortals depends totally and utterly on whether or not they are in a good mood, which means it is wise to choose your moment with care.

Fortunately, I didn't get my first wage slip (which is necessary for an application) until mid-way through December, and I decided it would be best to wait until after the holidays because they would not like to be disturbed so soon before Christmas. Then January came, and I had no excuse to put it off any longer.

Now, the CPAM (which deals with social security) is, in theory, open from 8am to 5pm every weekday, which is, frankly, incredible; most essential administrative services are open for a 2-hour window once a fortnight, and always while you're at work. But the problem is that you can't just turn up at any old time, unless you want to make life difficult for yourself. For example, Friday afternoons are right out - they'll be looking at their watch the whole time and hoping to be so unco-operative that you'll quickly leave the office in despair so they can bugger off home early. Any day between 12 and 2pm is also not a good idea; whoever is on duty at that time will be so annoyed that they're not having lunch that they will be in no mood to be helpful. Eventually, I plumped for 2:30pm on a Monday afternoon, figuring that the Monday morning blues would be over but the midweek depression not yet set in, and that they would be in a good mood after a lunchtime glass of wine or two, but not clock-watching to go home yet.

Walking to the CPAM, my terrified brain was still trying to justify turning round and going back home. Was I really that bothered about being reimbursed for my doctors appointments and jabs for going to French Guiana? Did I really want that 200 or so euros off my rent, paid for by the CAF? Would any sum of money really be worth this amount of hassle? Somehow, I kept going.

My heart sank when I realised that there was an 'exceptional' closure that day, at 3pm, and I'd arrived just half an hour before - not good. Still, I was there now so I took a deep breath and went in. I'd made an effort to look nice, with a fairly figure-hugging skirt, in the hopes that if all else went wrong, I could maybe seduce the guy. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and only those of you who have dealt with French bureaucracy will understand just how desperate you can get.

I was called into the office and saw instantly that my skirt was for nothing - it was a woman. Still, unperturbed, I smiled my best look-I-know-I'm-foreign-and-this-is-going-to-make-your-life-complicated-but-please-I'm-begging-you-be-nice smile and said, "Bonjour".

Oh, wang. I forgot to call her 'Madame'. She hates me already.

I don't know if it was my half-decent French, despite being English, or if she'd just had a really good bottle of Bordeaux at lunchtime, but she deigned to help out the poor foreigner. It helped that I had come well-prepared with my passport, driving licence, birth certificate, European Health Card, NHS number, RIB (certificate of bank details) Arrete de Nomination (work contract), wage slips, certificate of financial help from the SLC, P45, Attestation Professional, Attestation de Domicile, Attestation d'Etudes, Attestation de Couleur Préféré, love letters from every boyfriend I've had from the age of 5, and a receipt from 1998 for a tin of baked beans, just in case. All photocopied in triplicate, naturally.

And now it's done. I have a social security number, and I can sleep easy, knowing that I don't have to deal with French civil servants again for a very long time. Well, at least until I have to apply for CAF and medical reimbursements next week. Sigh.