At one point in my career, I was the EVP, Chief of Staff, and head of innovation at the world’s
largest supplier of milk.
You’d think that meant we had milk to spare.
And we did.
But not everyone saw it that way.
One day, the CFO marched into my office, visibly agitated.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said.
“A milk problem.”
Apparently, some employees were helping themselves to multiple cartons of milk from the
breakroom fridge.
Now let’s be clear—we’re not talking about craft lattes or artisanal raw-milk cold brew. We’re
talking gable-top, school-lunch-style cartons. White. Fat-free. Chocolate if you were lucky.
The company offered free milk as a simple, symbolic perk:
We believe in what we make. Enjoy it.
But apparently, someone was enjoying it a little too much.
The CFO’s solution?
“Let’s charge five cents a carton. Just to deter them.”
Five. Cents.
As the person responsible for culture, I nearly spat out my (free) milk.
This wasn’t a budget issue. This was a trust issue.
This was a control issue.
And turning a symbol of pride into a penalty?
That’s not leadership. That’s a morale drain.
We went back and forth.
Should we post a sign? Install a camera? Hire a milk bouncer?
Eventually, we landed on something simple:
“Please be considerate. Leave milk for your colleagues.”
Guess what?
It worked.
Nobody revolted. Nobody hoarded cartons. Nobody took a milk bath in the break room.
People got the message—and appreciated being treated like adults.
The Leadership Lesson?
Don’t nickel-and-dime your culture.
Don’t overcorrect for the one person who abuses a privilege by punishing the entire team.
Culture isn’t built in budget line items—it’s built in trust.
Because when you treat people like they’re responsible and decent, most of them rise to it.
But treat them like they’re one chocolate milk away from chaos?
They’ll feel that, too.
So next time you’re tempted to crack down on something small, ask yourself:
Are you solving a real problem—or just trying to feel in control of one?
And maybe—just maybe—
Give them the free milk.
(And high-five the ones with milk mustaches. They’re usually the happiest people in the
building.)