Ole seems like a nice enough guy. I'm sure if he notices that his name is spelled 'Solskjaer' at the foot of his contract the smile won't fade from his face, and he won't pause for a moment and stare blankly off into space with a wistful look as though he has just remembered a summertime camping trip he and his father went on when Ole was seven.
He won't recall how his father, while roasting freshly caught halibut over a roaring campfire, explained to him that the name 'Solskjær' means 'sunshine', or 'sunlight breaking', or 'something to do with a rock or something'.
He won't remember the pride in his father's eyes as he explained to him that the letter 'æ' doesn't exist in very many languages, and that in many ways 'æ' is a proud symbol of Norway's freedom, its beauty and its individuality.
"When you go off to see the world, Ole, don't let the foreigners take away your 'æ'. In their ignorance they will try to steal it and split it in two. If you allow them to take apart the 'æ', you will be allowing them to take apart and destroy Norway; to take apart and destroy your own heritage," Ole won't remember his father saying.
Then, as Randy and Paul look on in stunned silence (all this reminiscing has taken over fifteen minutes, during which time no one has spoken a single word), Ole won't drop his pen, he won't stand triumphantly to his feet, he won't rip open his shirt to reveal his proud Scandinavian chest, he won't flip over the boardroom table and he won't scream "HEIE NORGE!!!!!!" before storming out of Villa Park, making his way to the coast, commandeering a small fishing vessel and victoriously returning to Molde with enough lobster to feed the entire city.
...OR WON'T HE?