Forty-five minutes for two drinks at a not-especially-busy restaurant is not an accident. The restaurant had, at most, fifty-five percent of its tables filled. Brandt was not drowning. I could see, from my table, that the straight couple to our left — who had been seated ten minutes after us — got their drinks within eight minutes. The foursome to our right, who had been seated fifteen minutes after us, got their drinks in nine. I counted. I am an accountant by profession. Counting is what I do. When Brandt finally brought our drinks at 8:25, he did not apologize for the wait. He said, "Need anything else right now?" I said,

yes, we would like to order appetizers. We ordered the tuna tartare and the octopus. He said "okay" and walked away. The appetizers arrived at 9:17. That is fifty-two minutes for two shared small plates. During which Brandt passed our table four separate times — to bring drinks to the couple on our left, to refill water at the foursome on our right, and twice to walk past us into the kitchen without looking at us. At 9:10, seven minutes before the apps finally arrived, Terrence said to me, quietly, "Is it just me, or is this weird?" That was the first time he noticed. Terrence is the most trusting person I have ever met. It took him ninety minutes.