After a heart attack, a high-powered corporate manager was sent to relax on a quiet farm. But boredom quickly set in, and he asked the farmer for something—anything—to do.

Amused, the farmer handed him the worst job on the farm: cleaning up cow manure. It was supposed to take a week. The manager finished in a day.

Surprised, the farmer gave him another task: behead 500 chickens. Done in a day.

On day three, the farmer gave him something simple: sort potatoes into small and large piles. Hours passed, and nothing got done. The farmer asked, “You cleaned manure and butchered chickens—why can’t you do this?”

The manager sighed, “All my life, I’ve been cutting heads and dealing with crap. But now you want me to make decisions?”

It was a joke—but it revealed something deeper. The stress that broke him wasn’t from the dirty work—it came from constant decision-making.

In a separate tale passed around in executive circles, a new office manager was left three envelopes by his predecessor, marked for use during crises.
The first envelope read: “Blame your predecessor.”
The second: “Reorganize.”
The third? “Prepare three envelopes.”

A clever cycle. But also a reminder that the hardest parts of leadership—whether on a farm or in a boardroom—aren’t the tasks. It’s the weight of decisions, the pressure to always have the answer, and the silent toll it takes.

Lesson: Sometimes, stepping away from responsibility isn’t about avoiding work—it’s about remembering who we are without the constant need to decide what’s next.