practical, messy bun.
She bypassed the executive elevator, using her temporary access card to take the standard lift to
the 42nd floor, which housed the operations and logistics divisions. This was the engine room of
Vanguard, far beneath the opulent C-suite on the 60th floor. As the elevator doors chimed and
opened, Maya stepped out, a notebook tucked under her arm, ready to take the pulse of her new
empire.
he 42nd floor was a maze of sleek glass cubicles and open-plan desks. Maya walked slowly
down the main corridor, observing the motivational posters that felt distinctly
unmotivating, and the state of the breakrooms. As she approached the main conference
room, she heard a loud, exasperated sigh.
"Unbelievable. Absolutely incompetent," a voice muttered loudly.
Maya turned the corner and found a man in his late thirties, wearing a sharply tailored suit
without the jacket, frantically wiping at a large, dark coffee stain on the pristine white carpet
near the head of the conference table. His name badge, clipped to his belt, read 'Richard - VP of
Operations'.
Richard looked up, his face flushed with annoyance. His eyes darted over Maya, taking in her
sweatshirt, her jeans, and her skin color. A sneer formed on his lips. He didn't see a colleague. He
didn't see a superior. His biases instantly categorized her into a box that suited his immediate
need.
"Finally," Richard snapped, straightening up. "Did dispatch just send you up? You people take
your sweet time."
aya paused. For a fraction of a second, she considered correcting him, pulling rank, and
watching him grovel. It would have been deeply satisfying. But her strategic mind
immediately took over. This was a rare, unfiltered look at the management culture she
had inherited. This was a gift.
"I'm sorry?" Maya said mildly, keeping her voice even.
"Don't play dumb. The spill," Richard pointed aggressively at the floor. "I have a critical prep