Revisiting Lauren Margulies ten years after her original Forté profile, I expected to hear about what had changed. Instead, I found myself noticing what hadn't.
The same thoughtfulness. The same curiosity. The same openness to growth. The same desire to do meaningful work and contribute in a meaningful way.
Everything that stood out about Lauren ten years ago was still clearly there. Only deeper. The thoughtfulness was deeper. The judgment was deeper. The perspective was deeper.
One of the stories that stood out most in Lauren's original profile was about a professor at Harvard Business School.
Early in her MBA experience, she rarely spoke in class. Eventually, a professor pulled her aside and told her something she still remembers today: "Lauren, you're as smart as everyone else here. But I need you to talk."
He challenged her to raise her hand and contribute in every remaining class session. She did, even when her heart raced and her hand shook.
In 2016, the lesson seemed to be about finding her voice.
Ten years later, what stands out is not that Lauren accepted the feedback. It's that she welcomed it.
She spoke about [leaders in her life] with appreciation, not because the feedback was always easy to hear, but because they helped her grow.”
When I brought up the story during our conversation, she described it as a gift.
That perspective showed up repeatedly throughout our conversation.
Lauren talked about leaders who challenged her, colleagues who pushed her, and managers who provided direct, honest feedback. She spoke about them with appreciation, not because the feedback was always easy to hear, but because they helped her grow.
Lauren's father once told her to pay attention to what made her jealous. Not jealousy in the traditional sense, but the kind that appears when you see someone doing something and think, "I wish I could do that."
Over time, that advice became more than career guidance. It became a way of paying attention.
When Lauren saw people who were speaking boldly, leading authentically, or pursuing work that felt deeply meaningful, she didn't dismiss those reactions. She treated them as clues, signals pointing toward a direction she might want to pursue herself.
That openness to feedback, to possibility, to growth was present throughout our conversation.
The ten years since her original profile have been, in her words, "messy." There were leadership transitions, new organizations, difficult seasons, a second child, a move from New York City to Massachusetts, and all the uncertainty that comes with building a career while building a life.
Like many ambitious professionals, Lauren spent those years pursuing opportunities to learn and grow. She led teams, took on increasingly complex roles, and built expertise across healthcare organizations.
What Lauren values hasn't changed. She still wants meaningful work. She still wants opportunities to learn. She still wants to make a difference.
But experience has changed her understanding of what makes those things possible. Who will I be working for? How is feedback given? What happens when life gets complicated? Does this organization create the conditions for people to succeed? Can I do meaningful work here and continue to grow?
Lauren has learned that the answers to those questions often matter more than the opportunity itself.
That shift in perspective extends beyond her career. Ten years ago, leadership was something she largely associated with work. Today, she sees it differently.
Leadership happens at work, certainly. But it also happens at her children's school. In her community. In the everyday moments when someone steps forward to help solve a problem, organize people around an idea, or make things better.
The title matters less than the act itself. As Lauren put it, you can lead anywhere.
Near the end of our conversation, I asked Lauren what advice she would give the version of herself we interviewed ten years ago.
As she answered, I stopped her.
Some lessons can't be handed to us. They have to be lived.”
"Can I ask a different question?" I said. "Because as I'm listening to you, what I'm hearing is that people were telling you some of these things all along. You just weren't ready to hear them yet. If you could go back and give that advice to the younger Lauren, do you think she would have listened?"
Lauren smiled.
"No," she said. "I don't think she would."
I knew exactly what she meant.
Some lessons can't be handed to us. They have to be learned first-hand. The uncertainty. The difficult seasons. The unexpected detours. The people who challenge us. The people who believe in us. All of it becomes part of how we learn to see ourselves more clearly.
Ten years ago, Lauren Margulies was learning to find her voice.
Today, she trusts it.
Looking back, Lauren doesn't describe the last decade as a process of becoming someone different. She describes it as a process of unlearning. Becoming more of who she was before she started censoring herself. Before she started making herself smaller.
The best part about ten years later, she told me, is learning to be BIG.
The last decade didn't change who Lauren was. It allowed more of her to emerge.
