We always had at least one pig on the farm and sometimes more. I loved my pigs. They were pretty and smart. The one I think of the most is Snowball, a 350-pound white Yorkshire pig. Snowball got pretty fart. If you scratch his belly, he will first try to help you scratch while standing on three legs like a dog. Then she would give up and turn around to give me full access to her belly. She would lay there and enjoy scratching herself while I gave it to her.

A couple of times a year, when Dad noticed that Snowball was ready, we’d drive her to the neighbor’s farm for a social visit. One summer day, it was time for the aforementioned social visit to the neighbor’s wild boar. (Dad used this experience to fulfill the purpose of the traditional talk behind the barn.) Dad found my older brother Joe and me and informed us, “It’s time to take Snowball to Howeiller Farm. I’ve got a couple of things to do.” I have the truck in the pigsty. Go down and load it up and I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. We tended to do as Dad said since he was a high school principal and in those days a professional rower. Joe and I headed to the pigsty and sure enough there was the truck in the middle of the corral and a ramp leaning against the fence. We grabbed the ramp, placed it in the back of the truck, and backed up to make room for Snowball. Snowball, being the curious animal that he was, started up the ramp. Then he stopped and looked around. Fearing that we would lose all the territory we had accidentally gained without any effort, each of us put a shoulder against one of the pig’s hindquarters and began to push it towards the truck. I meant we tried to push the pig into the truck. Our approach was doomed to failure. When Snowball felt the pressure on his behind, he automatically pushed against the pressure and stepped back. Since he weighed more than the two of us combined, he dumped Joe into a mud puddle on one side of the ramp and left me tottering on the edge of the other. And if you know anything about pig mud puddles, they’re not the best places to be.

Around that time, Dad turned the corner of the barn and saw Joe face down in a puddle and me anticipating my own splash in the puddle. He burst into a fit of laughter like he had never seen before. He doubled over and nearly choked. I couldn’t help my own plunge and Joe and I came out wiping the dirty mud off our faces. Within minutes, when the laughter subsided, Dad looked at us and exclaimed, “Guys, I showed you how to carry a pig. That’s not the way to do it.” He walked to the nearby barn, picked up a small metal cup of husked corn, made a small trail of Hansel and Gretel up the ramp, and dumped the rest into the front of the truck bed. Within three minutes, Snowball was charged and proud to be there. From that moment on I remembered: “You can’t push a pig into a truck.”

A leader’s goal is to motivate employees to do the “right” things according to the specific needs of the business. Some leaders believe that their followers will do what the leader says simply because of their role. Others rely on his charisma for employee loyalty and obedience. Fortunately or unfortunately, these beliefs often do not manifest in real life.

I spend a lot of time in organizations trying to help employees choose behaviors that will enable the organization to succeed in today’s challenging business environment. At times, I am frustrated by the inability of employees to choose to work together for a common goal.

The story of the pig has helped me for years to make a point in my training sessions. I explain that in this feature I am not so different from Snowball. When people have tried to force me to do things and I didn’t understand the purpose, I tended to resist. If people know how the change will help them personally, they will be able to make objective decisions.

You can’t force people to do anything, however, people tend to choose to do things that they think will meet their needs. Leaders must tell their followers the whys behind the initiatives they select for the good of the business. Remember, you can’t push a pig into a truck.