Somebody Moved Your Cheese. Quit Guarding the Empty Station.

I’m about to say something that may cost me some credibility with the serious leadership-book crowd: I love Who Moved My Cheese?

Yes, it’s short. Yes, it’s a parable about mice and tiny people running around a maze. Yes, you can read the entire thing on a lunch break and still have time for dessert. That’s exactly the point. The basic ideas in Spencer Johnson’s little book are fantastic, and most of us need them far more often than we need another 400-page leadership brick for the nightstand.

The quick refresher

Four characters live in a maze and depend on a big supply of cheese at Cheese Station C. One day, the cheese is gone. How each of them responds is the whole book:

Sniff

Noticed the supply shrinking early and saw it coming.

Scurry

Didn't overthink it. Put on the running shoes and went looking.

Hem

Outraged. Refuses to move. Waits for the old cheese to come back. (It doesn't.)

Haw

Complains for a while, feels the fear, and eventually heads into the maze. Finds new cheese.

The cheese, of course, is whatever we want out of work and life: the job, the title, the team, the schedule, and above all, “the way we’ve always done it.”

Every workplace moves the cheese

Every workplace, every culture and every organization goes through change. New leaders. New systems. Restructures. Mergers. Or someone decides the Tuesday meeting should now be on Thursday, and a small civil war breaks out in the lunchroom.

I’ve had my own cheese moved more than once. At the start of this year, my title changed from Director of Human Resources to Director of People & Culture. On paper, that’s a few words on a business card. In practice, it meant rethinking what the work is actually for. And then there’s Work, Advised. Stepping out to build my own practice has been, let’s just say, a lot of new maze.

Confession: I’m probably a Haw

I would love to tell you I’m a Sniff, catching every change early. The truth? I’m a Haw. I notice the cheese is gone. I complain about it for a respectable amount of time. I may draft a strongly worded memo in my head that never gets sent. And then I lace up my shoes and go find the new cheese.

As a natural Processor, I’d prefer the maze came with a map, a policy and a laminated floor plan. It never does. But I’ve found, more often than not, that the new cheese is better than the old stuff. Which is annoying, frankly. I had a whole speech prepared.

Grieving the old cheese is normal. Guarding the empty station is optional.

When you’re the one moving the cheese

Leaders don’t just experience change. We cause a lot of it. And how we move the cheese decides how many Hems we end up with.

Tell people why. People can handle change surprisingly well. What they can’t handle is change with no explanation.

Say it early. The rumour mill has faster Wi-Fi than your all-staff email. Get there first.

Name the loss. Even good change costs people something. Acknowledge it out loud instead of pretending it’s all upside.

Walk with your Hems. Don’t shame them. The people who resist hardest are often the ones who cared most about the old cheese.

Celebrate the first person who finds the new cheese. Loudly. Other people are watching to see if it’s safe to go.

P.S. Yes, I’ve noticed there’s a small gold wedge in my own company logo. No, I will not be taking questions at this time.

The cheese always moves. Good leaders go looking for the new supply first, then come back for everybody else.

Which character are you, honestly: Sniff, Scurry, Hem or Haw? I already confessed. Your turn. And if you’re about to move someone’s cheese, let’s talk about leading the change well.

Original writing and illustrations for Work, Considered., the Work, Advised. blog. Personal stories draw on Daniel's own experiences; no confidential workplace examples are used.