Junior Writer
Cincinnati, OH, United States 🇺🇸

Monica K

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Bio

Monica is a Midwest based writer, editor, and marketing professional. Her writing experience includes casual blog articles, formal magazine pieces, and copywriting for websites, emails, and other marketing channels. For her English MA thesis, Monica wrote about nostalgia in Evelyn Waugh's Bridehead Revisited, a project which enabled her to pursue a long-standing interest in how our memories shape our reality. In her free time, Monica enjoys consuming media about World War II and planning formal dinner parties.

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As a Story Terrace writer, Monica K interviews customers and turns their life stories into books. Get to know our writer better by reading the autobiographical anecdote below!

Mistaken Identity

I slid into a parking space at my complex and sighed. Another day, another reminder that my life was going nowhere.I just started my first job after college and things were bad. The first staff meeting ended in a shouting match. The paychecks had bounced once again. What had I gotten myself into?“Do well in college, they said,” I grumbled, grabbing my purse. “It’ll all be fine, they said.”I unlocked my mailbox and peered inside, eyes widening. A cigarette butt—a present from the mailman. I shook my head.I walked upstairs to my apartment, glancing idly over at the official notices slowly growing on my former neighbors’ door. One day, they mysteriously disappeared. Frankly, I was relieved. Their TV was always on, disturbing my few leisure hours.Turns out, their flight was more nefarious than mysterious. They owed months of back rent. Apparently, my judgment of apartments wasn’t much better than my judgment of employers.I turned on a literature podcast and stepped into the shower, trying to forget about yet another unpleasant incident at work. Slowly, however, warm water and some astute commentary on Oscar Wilde’s plays lifted my spirits. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all.Barely ten minutes later, there was a bang on the door.BAM! BAM! BAM!Too late I remembered the property manager was supposed to drop off my lease.BAM! BAM! BAM!“Just a minute!” I yelled, and heard, “Oh good!” in response.I quickly dressed and rushed to the door, hair sopping wet.“So sorry! I was in the shower.”“Ah, bad time, I see.” She reached out and handed me a packet of papers, which I reflexively took. “Brittany Cook, I hereby serve you with—”Panicking, I jerked my hand away. “That’s not me!”The woman eyed me critically, clearly skeptical.“Then why did you respond to your name? Why did you grab the papers?”I hurriedly explained about my lease, but her aggressive skepticism continued. My anger boiled over.“Look, you aren’t a police officer. I don’t have to prove anything to you. Leave me alone.”I slammed the door in her face. I heard her pause and then shuffle down the stairs. I looked around my living room, steely resolve entering my eyes. I knew exactly how to get out of this situation.“That’s it!” I said. “I’m going to graduate school.”

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