R U T H  N I N E K E


#Moods, Men, & Mommy Issues


I was thirty-one when I decided success required being a fraud. But even fraud has its limits. I thought of Frank Abagnale from Catch Me If You Can. That poor, bold, and unlucky dreamer. He wanted to be bigger and better than he felt he was, so he faked his way into the life he thought we wanted. And then he got found out.

I was on my way to work at Austin Public, walking up Talbot Street. This was before the weather changed and I started taking the train one stop to Forest Hills. I remember thinking that I had to smile more, and even when I didn’t want to.

I’d just gotten hired at Austin Public maybe two weeks before, and I didn’t want the bitter bitchiness I’d accumulated after one year at Tap House to follow me down the block. I didn’t want to wind up with the same reputation as Alexa. In her defense, poor girl, anyone who worked at Tap House as long as she had was entitled to their bitterness. She made her bed to lie in. She deserved to be a miserable bitch.

That place is a literal shithole. Fuck that place.

I was determined to do well at my new job; in spite of that that I’m sure the head server/assistant manager immediately hated me on general principal, on account of the fact I had fucked one of her favorite server’s on-again-off-again boyfriend. Whoops?

Small world, Forest Hills.

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