COMPASS

I've been meaning to buy a compass since last year in Toledo, when B and I got lost every few hundred feet on the winding streets. I'd like to have one in NY too for when I come up out of the subway and don't know which way is which. So at a little riverside bazaar in Kochi, B spots a guy selling compasses. I pick one out and we're in the process of haggling when I ask, "Wait, which way is north?"
"North," the compass salesman says pointing in one direction.
"I think it's that way," B says, pointing the opposite direction. I'm waiting for my needle to stop bobbling around.
"North, north," the man insists. A neighboring salesman vigorously agrees, "That is north."
The needle stops spinning. It agrees with B.
"So is this right? Which way is it?"
The man head-bobbles and smiles. "North, south, what does it matter?"
"It matters because your compass doesn't work if THAT way isn't NORTH! Which means we're not buying it!"
He considers this. Yes, he decides, we are right after all. B and the compass are right.