Standing in line at a busy restaurant, I hear the cashier ask my friend Louis if he's with the man who just placed an order. "I've never seen that man in my life," says Louis.

He and the cashier both laugh, the cashier rings up Louis's order, and he pays for his lunch. Then he asks for his number. You know, one of those plastic cards that you slide into a metal spiral that sits atop a metal pole that you set on the table so the overworked and underpaid waitstaff can wander around the restaurant looking for your table.

"He has it." The cashier nods in the direction of the previous customer who is wending his way through the crowded restaurant.

Louis stares at her. "I told you I'd never seen him before in my life."

"Oh," says the cashier, "I thought you were kidding."