Meeting the Mayor

In most of France, nothing gets done without a permit. You can't build a fence, put in new windows or re-rout your plumbing without an official seal of approval. If you happen to live in a pretty town, then the powers that be may even want to see detailed plans for your renovation to make sure you don't intend to change your rustic maison into a bombastic bauhaus monstrosity or open a *gasp* MacDonalds.
None of this happens with the approval of Monsieur le Maire. This man (or woman) literally has the power of life or death over your project so it's important to make a good first impression on him. Be sure to show him the respect his office brings him. Call him Monsieur le Maire (or Madame le Maire) until they say otherwise. They may not. Bring a nice gift. We brought a bottle of fine Tennessee sippin' whiskey to meet the Maire. He was much pleased by this. All went well.
I have had the opportunity to have drinks with him twice. He is a genial, efficient, direct man, which is good, because his accent is so thick that what little French I can claim to understand is useless with him. He is very good-natured however, and that's a necessity. For though I only know him as 'Mr. Le Maire', most everybody else in town has known him for many, many years, so most times he's not really the mayor to them as much as he is a brother, friend, boss, etc. So when they hear an etrange like me call him Monsieur le Maire in the bar, they all raise their voices high and with all mock courtesy bow and kowtow in unison proclaiming 'Monsier le Maire!!! Monsieur le Maire!!!' Then everybody falls over in fits of laughter, Mr. Mayor included.