Arst Avocats designed this mini-series to give you an inside look at a judicial reorganization procedure.
By Morgan Jamet, Partner Attorney — Insolvency Law
Published on August 22, 2026
In Paris, the first meeting with theadministrator usually takes place a week later, and often remotely, via video conference. Here in the provinces, it's not like that: the court invites us to go directly to the office, immediately, in person. Marc hadn't even had time to process the relief of leaving the hallway before we were already in the car.
At the office, we didn't see the administrator right away. An assistant greeted us first, with a list of documents far longer than anything we had prepared for the court: general ledger, bank statements for the last six months, statement of receivables, current contracts, detailed staff roster, leases. A seemingly endless list. She paused for a moment on a specific point: "And your premises, your business—are you properly insured? We're particularly concerned about this, because from now on, the administrator also bears a share of responsibility for what happens there." This wasn't just another question on the list: it was the one that protected everyone, including him.
Then the administrator receives us. His office is cluttered with filing cabinets, and the lamp provides poor lighting. He has us sit down, and a moment of silence passes, as if he knew what this morning meant to Marc.
"I'm not here to save you, Mr. Dupont. I'm here to help you save yourself."
He said it with a warmth one wouldn't necessarily expect to find in this office. Then, almost as an invitation rather than an interrogation: "Tell me about your company. From the beginning."
Marc hesitates, searching for a starting point. The administrator doesn't help him right away—he wants the whole story, not just the last few weeks. The company's creation, the years when things were going well, and then the precise moment when everything started to go wrong. It's not curiosity. It's his way of understanding whether the difficulties are a temporary setback or if they reveal something deeper about how the company has always operated.
Marc then recounts: an SME with an industrial model, a manufacturing workshop set up by two partners initially, now employing around twenty people, and expertise that took ten years to develop. Nothing exceptional in the local economic landscape—the kind of company you see by the dozens in any industrial park, and that's precisely what the administrator seems to note most attentively: neither a hopeless case nor an insignificant one. A size and a model that, on paper, leave considerable room for maneuver.
He then asks, almost casually, the question he asks sooner or later of every executive he meets: “Did you provide any personal guarantees? Any sureties on company loans?” This time, Marc answers without hesitation—they had already discussed it weeks earlier, during a video conference. The loan of the premises. The administrator makes a note of it, without any particular comment. It’s one element among others he needs to know to have a complete picture of what’s at stake—for the company, and for Marc himself.
He puts down his pen for a moment and adds a question that wasn't on any list: "Who exactly owns this property?" "Établissements Dupont itself," Marc replies, not immediately grasping the point. It's not a trivial detail, and the administrator tells him so bluntly: many business owners place their commercial real estate in a separate entity from the business operations—most often a real estate investment company (SCI)—precisely to protect it from the fate of the company, which bears the risks of its operations. Here, that's not the case: the property belongs directly to the company, which is currently in receivership. If the proceedings were ever to shift to liquidation, this asset would be among those put up for sale, like any other—often in a rush, often below its actual value. And if the proceeds weren't enough to pay off the outstanding loan, the one Marc personally guaranteed, it would be a double blow: losing the property and still having to cover out of his own pocket what the sale wouldn't have covered. Marc paled slightly. "No one had ever put it like that to me." It's too late now to reverse the structuring choice made years earlier. But it's not too late to understand exactly what, very concretely, needs defending—beyond the company itself.
Then comes the question of his role, the one the court defined in its ruling: assistance, not representation. He will not manage the company in Marc's place. But a number of actions—payments above a certain threshold, anything related to the disposal of company assets—will now require his signature alongside Marc's. Établissements Dupont retains its director. It also now has a co-signatory.
"Now, the rule that really matters, the one that must never be forgotten in the months to come."
He formulates it slowly, as if he wants it to stick. Everything incurred before the opening judgment—the old debts—is frozen, as Marc was already told in court. But everything incurred afterward, from now on, must be paid on time. The supplier delivering this week, the accountant, the workshop rent. No delays, no amicable arrangements to postpone for two weeks. Because these creditors, unlike the old ones, have no protection: they can take action, obtain a judgment, enforce the debt, without waiting for the end of the proceedings. Just one new unpaid debt, and the whole system grinds to a halt—sometimes even leading to liquidation.
"That's the question you were asked in court, Mr. Dupont. It's the same question here, every day."
Marc understands, this time, what had transpired in the council chamber without fully grasping its significance at the time.
One decision remains to be made, right now, in this office. A long-standing supplier, who has been delivering for twelve years, has just requested payment upon order—something they've never demanded before. The administrator asks the question directly: "Can you continue with them on these terms, or do you look for an alternative now, while you still have time to find one?" Marc hesitates, looks at the accountant, then at me. It's not up to me to decide for him. It's his company, his decision—the first of many he'll have to make under this new scrutiny.
Before we leave, the administrator sets the pace: a meeting every two weeks, with the cash flow up to date, outstanding invoices, and decisions made since the last meeting. No more. No less.
He gets up to walk us back, briefly placing a hand on Marc's shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll help you through this."
In the elevator, Marc finally breathes a sigh of relief. "He's not what I expected." "That's actually good news," I reply. "An administrator who listens to you with that kind of attention is also an administrator you can convince with facts."
—
(Marc is a fictional, composite character.)
SEEN FROM THE INSIDE, a series about receivership told in a concrete way.
Next episode: the marathon of the observation period.
Morgan Jamet,
founding partner of Arst Avocats, advises business leaders on commercial law, insolvency law, restructuring, and business litigation.
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