The screen glowed with data. Maya pointed out the discrepancies in the shipping logs. «The ‘scrapped’ engines weren’t being recycled. They were being shipped to a warehouse in Indianapolis, then sold as ‘refurbished’ at a 400% markup».
Victor’s jaw set. «And Russell was getting a cut of every sale». Maya nodded. «It’s all here. He thought no one would ever bother to check the software loops».
The shop was quiet now, but it was a good quiet. The “old boys’ club” had been dismantled by a seventeen-year-old with a notebook and a sense of justice. Andy, the foreman, started to clap. Then Nick joined in. Soon, the whole bay was cheering for Maya.
She stood there, a bit overwhelmed, but she didn’t look away. She’d earned this. She’d proven that skill doesn’t have a gender, and that the “little guy” can win if they’re smart enough.
Victor turned to the room. «This shop needs a new direction. It needs integrity. And it needs someone who understands the tech of the future».
He looked at Maya. «I’m offering you a full scholarship to the Engineering Institute, and a standing offer for a Junior Consultant role here during your breaks. We need your eyes on our systems».
Maya looked at her dad. Nick was beaming. «I’ll take it», she said. «But only if my dad gets the Shop Manager position. He’s the one who actually knows how to keep this place running».
Victor smiled. «I think that’s a very fair trade. Nick, you’re the new manager. Get this place cleaned up».
The cheers that followed were louder than any engine. That evening, as the sun set over the service bays, Maya and Nick walked out together. The “unfixable” engine was purring in the background, a testament to what happens when you don’t let people tell you where you belong.
Maya hadn’t just fixed a car. She’d fixed a broken system. And as they drove home, she knew one thing for sure: her place wasn’t in the kitchen. Her place was wherever she decided to be.
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