A female mechanic has gone to lengths to ensure women and non-binary people feel comfortable and at ease whenever they have car troubles. The 25-year-old used to be “anxious” when she needed assistance, and male-dominated repair shops were the only thing available, so she started her own business.
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Zoe Cog, from Manchester, UK, created a safe space for women to look for car assistance, a repair shop she called AutoCog. Although she started out as a receptionist in the industry, she became a mechanic herself. It was then she realized women constantly felt anxious about entering male-dominated repair shops, fearing discrimination or belittling.
“I’ve been the girl on the other end, worried about walking into places like garages and feeling anxious, and although it’s never easy, I like to think I’m an approachable, friendly female who has created a place where you can walk in and feel at ease, regardless of your gender,” she said in an interview.
“I get pleasure out of taking the pressure off the girls and can give as good of a service as any male-owned garage, but also build trust with the people I’m working with,” she added.
The response to Autocog surpassed all expectations, according to her. “Honestly, the response to my garage has been phenomenal and beyond anything I’d ever expected. It’s been an incredible rollercoaster. I’ve had so much support and positive feedback from not just women but also some incredible words from men,” she revealed.
She continued, mentioning how some feedback also proved why a female-owned repair shop was much needed. “Although some of the comments have proved why such a place was needed for us women — that’s for sure. I’ve had people question my ability to do the job as a woman, but I don’t let it get to me,” she said.
Many women are all about fighting gender stereotypes, and inspiring stories come up every day online. An excellent example is Edine, a young woman who stopped removing facial hair and shared how it has changed her life with the world.
My Stepdaughter Insisted I Reassign All Her Deceased Father’s Possessions into Her Name – I Complied, Yet She Was Unpleased
The emptiness of George’s departure permeates their residence, his presence enduring in the shirt Mariana grips nightly. However, it wasn’t his passing that devastated her… it was her stepdaughter Susan’s insistence on inheriting his wealth. When she reluctantly agreed, an unexpected twist left Susan enraged and Mariana strangely content.
Progressing past the death of a dear one is always challenging. At times, I still sense my husband George’s voice echoing in my mind. I awaken holding his cherished shirt, his fragrance still clinging to the material. Yet, as I mourned him, my stepdaughter’s actions… they utterly broke me…
I am Mariana, aged 57, wed to the kindest man, George, for 25 years. He had a daughter, Susan, aged 34, from an earlier marriage.
Our bond with Susan was once good. She addressed me as “Mom” and filled the gap in my heart from not bearing my own children. I never viewed her as “another’s” child. I cherished her as my own daughter, truly.
When Susan wed her chosen partner, George and I were thrilled. But then, everything deteriorated when George received a terminal cancer diagnosis.
Susan’s visits reduced from weekly to monthly, then ceased entirely. She seldom visited her father, occasionally phoning to inquire about his health.
One day, she posed a question that tore me apart. “How long does he have left?”
Clutching the phone tightly, my voice shook. “Susan, your father isn’t an item with an expiration date.”
“I just need to know, Mom. I’m swamped, you know that… I can’t come by often,” she responded.
“Swamped?” I repeated, my tone filled with disbelief. “Too swamped to visit your dying father?”
She exhaled deeply. “Look, I’ll attempt to come soon, okay?”
But that “soon” never materialized.
Then, the dreaded day arrived. The hospital informed me that George had passed away peacefully.
I was devastated, barely able to stand as the reality sank in. My beloved George, gone.
Shockingly, Susan didn’t attend his funeral. When I called her, she promptly excused herself.
“I’m expecting, Mom,” she stated, her tone strangely indifferent. “The doctors advised against lengthy travel due to some medical concerns.”
I swallowed hard, holding back tears. “But Susan, it’s your father’s funeral. Don’t you wish to bid him farewell one last time?”
“I can’t jeopardize my baby’s health,” she curtly replied. “You understand, right?”
I didn’t, not truly, but I nodded silently, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Of course, dear. Take care.”
As I sat near my husband’s coffin, I couldn’t dismiss the notion that our relationship had irrevocably changed.
Six months post-George’s death, I was startled by a loud knock at my door. Opening it, I saw Susan and her husband Doug, along with a severe-looking man in a suit.
Susan entered without greeting. “Mom, we need your signature on some documents.”
Baffled, I blinked. “Which documents?”
Doug handed me a stack of papers, including a blank sheet. “Just sign these. They’re for transferring all the properties into our names.”
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