The ones we look to

We were out for lunch with one of our larger suppliers, gathered at one of the tall tables near the middle of the restaurant's room. The three guys from Salesforce had already drawn us into easy conversation, the kind you don’t expect at a corporate lunch. They spoke about their families with openness, and that softened the air. Laughter rose, wine glasses caught the light, and somewhere between business talk and shared stories, we found ourselves speaking about what keeps you going when you’re building something that matters.

One of them, a man twelve years into corporate life, leaned in and shared how he once spent five years building a company that ended in bankruptcy. His honesty hung in the air. He said he knows the weight of the work,  the nights that stretch too long, the moments you think you might lose it all.

“If you are building,” he said, “make sure you have a plan B.”

Quirin smiled. He spoke about something he’d learned from someone he admires deeply, Arnold Schwarzenegger. How Arnold refused to have a plan B. How he built his body from scratch, turned his accent into a strength, and moved from one dream to the next with full focus.

And then, one of them turned to me.

“And you? Who do you follow?”

I froze. I smiled and said, “No one. No one really.”

The truth is, I wasn’t ready for the question. I had been so focused, so immersed in what Quirin was saying, the way he tells stories always pulls me in, that when the spotlight suddenly shifted, I didn’t have an answer. And it left me feeling unsettled, as if a gap had been revealed. A space where I wished I had someone I could name with certainty.

The truth is, I’ve drawn strength from many stories, but not from one single figure. I’ve admired leaders like Indra Nooyi, who built and steered PepsiCo with clarity and resilience, a path that resonates with my own mix of corporate and entrepreneurial. I was captivated by Jamie Kern Lima’s Believe It how she held on to a vision for everyday women despite years of rejection and eventually built a billion-dollar company. I’ve read Shoe Dog by Phil Knight, tracing how Nike teetered on the edge more than once before becoming the icon it is. And on the days when my mindset wavered, I would press play on Brendan Burchard’s Growth Day, letting his words remind me that challenges are not dead ends, but steps forward.

Lately, I find myself following Emma Grede. She shows me that where you come from does not define where you can go. She carries herself as an unapologetically powerful woman, co-founder of Good American, founding partner of SKIMS, and at the same time, she’s a mother of four and a loyal friend. Watching her proves that strength and softness, ambition and family, can live side by side.

All these voices have been threads, not a single banner to follow, but a tapestry to learn from.

And yet, as I sat there in that restaurant, I felt the absence of something. I couldn’t name a woman I had followed closely on this journey. Not one I could point to and say, “She showed me the way.” That realisation has stayed with me.

There is space, more than space, a need  for more women to tell the truth of their journeys. To share the late nights, the pivots, the failures that shaped the wins. To show what it takes to build something from nothing, and to keep building even when it feels like everything is against you.

Because inspiration matters. Because stories matter. And because somewhere out there, another woman might need to hear yours.

Whose story has stayed with you lately, and what part of it are you ready to carry forward in your own journey?

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