“Where are you calling from?” And: “What are you driving right now?”
“The same car since high school. Mitsubishi Lancer. But I just got a high paying job,” I stuttered, forced into a feeling of insecurity, of having to explain myself worthy.
“Oh, congratulations.”
“Ya know, I was on the fence about buying one of your pretentious little Nazi shitboxes, but you helped me make up my mind.”