The sales assistant looks at Jimmy with a sort of twitching around his eyes
that Ove seems adept at generating in people with whom he comes into contact.
This is so frequent that one could possibly name a syndrome after him.
“He didn’t mean any harm, man,” Jimmy tries to say pleasantly.
“I’m trying to show him a MacBook and he’s asking me what sort of car I drive,” the sales assistant bursts out, looking genuinely hurt.
“It’s a relevant question,” mutters Ove, with a firm nod at Jimmy.
“I don’t have a car! Because I think it’s unnecessary and I want to use more environmentally friendly modes of transportation!”
says the sales assistant in a tone of voice pitched somewhere between intransigent anger and the fetal position.
Ove looks at Jimmy and throws out his arms, as if this should explain everything.
“You can’t reason with a person like that.” He nods and evidently expects immediate support.
“Where the hell have you been, anyway?” “I was just checking out the monitors over there, you know,” explains Jimmy.
“Are you buying a monitor?” asks Ove. “No,” says Jimmy and looks at Ove as if it was a really strange question,
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