When I talk to leaders about happiness, I usually get one of two reactions: a knowing nod from someone who has figured out that mindset drives performance, or a skeptical look from someone who thinks happiness has no place in a business conversation.
I'd argue it's one of the most important conversations we can have.
After years of leadership discussions, mentors, and hard-won lessons, I set out to write about happiness—one of my favorite topics when it comes to life and leadership. I had stories jotted down from books, sports, family, and friends. I was excited to finally pull it all together.
I never realized it would become the toughest thing I've ever written, or that it would force me to question whether I truly believed what I had spent years telling other people.
One of my mentors, Ted, used to say, "Happiness is a choice, not a result."
Ted loved using fishing to explain it. In a room full of frontline leaders, almost everyone relates to fishing. But if you ask whether they catch fish every time they go, they laugh and say no. Sometimes they catch nothing at all, yet they still love it.
Why?
Because most of the time it was never really about the fish. It was the stories, the boat ride, the people you were with, and the break from normal life. We choose to enjoy the experience even when we do not get the outcome we want.
Organizations obsess over outcomes too—profits, scores, metrics—but usually those are the result of many intentional things done right beforehand. Happiness works the same way. It is rarely something we stumble across after everything finally goes perfectly. It is a perspective and a choice we make every day.
I remember one fishing trip in Alaska where we had a little too much fun the night before. The next morning, I was fighting for survival on a rocking boat while whales surfaced around us. If I wanted to, I could describe that as a miserable trip. Instead, I remember the camaraderie, the scenery, the stories, and the fact that we caught a lot of fish that day too.
At the time, that lesson felt easy.
Then life tested whether I actually believed it.
Just before I metaphorically sat down to write this article, my seemingly healthy and active father unexpectedly passed away on Good Friday morning.
My dad was my best friend, my mentor, someone I talked to almost every day, and—as a random but important detail—an incredible golfer who was still making holes in one in his 70s.
There were no warning signs. We had been texting that morning about my kids' sports schedules and normal everyday life. Then, in a blink, he was gone.
For the first time in my life, I wrestled with whether happiness was really a choice or whether circumstances controlled us.
I will never fully get over losing my dad. I miss him every day. There are still moments where I reach for my phone before remembering there will not be another conversation waiting on the other end.
But after a lot of reflection, I realized something important: I can be sad and still choose gratitude. I can grieve and still recognize how lucky I was. I can miss him deeply while still choosing happiness in the life and memories we shared.
My dad constantly reinforced two lessons that stand out to me now more than ever.
The first was mindset. He firmly believed the placebo effect was real and that people become what they repeatedly tell themselves. Sometimes you have to "fake it till you believe it" long enough for your mind and body to follow.
The second lesson was one of the most Midwest sayings imaginable:
"You can't get my goat if you don't know where I keep it in the barn."
In other words, people only control your emotions if you hand them control. Too many people allow negativity to dictate their happiness.
I saw that lesson play out years ago on a ski trip with a friend who tended to drift toward negativity. We were skiing at a tiny mountain with only two chair lifts and a laid-back lift operator who seemed incapable of stress.
The first time through, the operator asked how the day was going.
My friend said, "Pretty good, just wish it was a little sunnier."
The guy smiled and said, "We'll see if we can turn it up for you."
A few runs later, my friend said, "Great, just wish there was more powder."
Again, the guy calmly replied, "We'll see if we can soften it up for you."
By the third trip around, I jumped in and said, "It's great. We're skiing. Who can beat that?"
That moment always stuck with me because some people can find a problem in almost anything while others can find gratitude in almost everything.
Perspective shapes experience. That applies in leadership too.
Something I always reinforce with leaders is that leadership itself is ultimately about choice—and choosing to do nothing or become irrelevant is also a choice.
You choose whether you will have courage. You choose whether you will give honest feedback. You choose whether you will avoid difficult conversations or address them. You choose whether you will be transparent, accountable, and authentic.
And just like happiness, leadership is rarely about perfect circumstances.
Some of the toughest moments leaders face are conversations that do not feel very "happy" at all—addressing poor performance, dealing with disengagement, or making unpopular decisions.
Many leaders hide behind scripts and corporate language because direct honesty feels uncomfortable. But I have always believed that when you are honest, transparent, and consistent, there is no bad news—just news.
Sometimes the most respectful thing you can do is clearly tell someone the truth.
Early in my career as an HR professional, I learned that one of the most empowering things a leader can do is remind people that they have agency. People can choose to engage, contribute, improve, and grow. That choice belongs to the individual—and recognizing that is not harsh, it is liberating. Many people stay trapped in unhappiness because they act as though they have no control over their lives. You may not control every circumstance, but you absolutely control your response.
I've realized over time that one of the biggest obstacles to happiness is cynicism.
Malcolm Gladwell talks in Blink about contempt and how relationships rarely survive once contempt enters the equation. I think the same thing happens inside organizations. Cynicism spreads quickly and eventually becomes toxic. Every decision is questioned. Every leader is assumed to have bad intent. Every challenge becomes proof that nothing will improve.
That mindset destroys cultures.
On the other hand, appreciation changes environments.
One story Gladwell shares involves a highly successful car salesman whose secret was surprisingly simple: he consistently made people feel appreciated.
That sounds almost too easy, but I have seen the same thing repeatedly in leadership and life. People desperately want to feel valued.
Over the years, I've noticed many of the best leadership books arrive at the same conclusion in different ways. The Fred Factor emphasizes making ordinary interactions meaningful. The Trust Factor focuses on recognition and connection. Love and Respect explains how people become trapped waiting for love or respect before offering it themselves.
Too many people spend their lives focused on what they are not getting instead of what they could be giving. Many people wait for happiness to arrive before changing their outlook.
Usually it works the other way around.
The choice comes first.
That does not mean life is always easy. It does not mean pretending painful things do not exist. Life is hard sometimes. People disappoint us. Plans fail. Relationships change. Golf shots slice into the woods. And sometimes the people we love most leave far too soon.
But the older I get, the more I realize happiness looks a lot like golf.
Some days you shoot your best round. For me anyway, some days you lose a lot of golf balls and cannot hit a fairway to save your life.
Sometimes the people you love most are no longer walking the course beside you.
But if you focus only on the score, you miss the entire experience.
The stories. The laughs. The conversations between shots.
The privilege of getting to play another round at all.
My dad taught me that better than anyone.
Most of the rounds I played with him, I did not play well. But looking back now, it was never really about golf. It was about time together, conversations, relationships, and shared memories.
And the older I get, the more I understand that whether it's work, fishing, or golf, the answer is still the same.
Happiness is a choice.
Not because life is always perfect.
But because life itself is the gift.
Michael “Keith” Cutter is the Vice President of Talent Strategy at Delek US Holdings Inc., a downstream energy company. A licensed attorney in Texas, Keith has over 15 years of experience in human resources and labor relations. Passionate about culture and leadership, Keith has led strategic initiatives in talent management, diversity, and organizational development, primarily in the oil and gas industry.
Delek is proud to be certified by HRCI. To learn more about HRCI organizational certifications based on ISO standards and to certify your company too, visit business.hrci.org.
Explore more of Keith's work as an HRCI contributing writer below:
How Complacency—Not Incompetence—Ends Careers
What Motivates Employees: It's So Simple
Becoming Irreplaceable: How to Stand Out at Work and in Life