You’re walking down the hall. A staff member approaches. They’ve got a problem, and honestly, it sounds like a valid one. You listen, you nod, and then you say those fatal words: "Let me think about it and get back to you."
In that exact moment, a monkey leaped. It didn't just move; it physically transferred from their back to yours. You are now working for your subordinate. This is the core nightmare described in One Minute Manager Meets the Monkey, a book that—despite being decades old—is probably more relevant in our Slack-pinging, "quick question" era than it was in the 80s.
Kenneth Blanchard, William Oncken Jr., and Hal Burrows didn't just write a management book. They wrote a survival guide for the "overwhelmed" who don't realize they are the architects of their own burnout. Most people think being a "good boss" means having all the answers. It doesn't. Being a good boss means making sure the monkeys stay where they belong.
The Anatomy of a Monkey (and Why You're Collecting Them)
A monkey isn't a project. It’s the "next move."
Think about it. When a team member says, "We have a problem," the monkey is in a state of limbo. If you accept the responsibility for the next step, you’ve accepted the monkey. Suddenly, your subordinate is supervising you to see if you’ve done the work yet. It’s a total inversion of the corporate hierarchy.
The authors identify three types of management time. There’s Boss-imposed time (the stuff your boss makes you do), System-imposed time (admin, HR, bureaucracy), and then there’s Self-imposed time. This last one is the only part you actually control. But here’s the kicker: self-imposed time gets eaten alive by "Subordinate-imposed time."
Every time you take a monkey, you lose a chunk of your own discretionary time. You end up working late on a Saturday while your team is at the movies, simply because you’re busy doing their jobs. It’s a trap. It’s a cycle of learned helplessness that breeds a culture of "I don't know, ask the boss."
The Four Rules of Monkey Management
You can't just throw monkeys back at people and walk away. That’s just being a jerk. One Minute Manager Meets the Monkey outlines a specific framework for handling these metaphorical primates without losing your mind or your team’s respect.
Rule One: Descriptions. The "next move" must be clearly defined. No vague "we'll see." You need a concrete action. If the monkey is "the budget is over," the next move isn't "fix the budget." It's "bring me three cost-cutting options by Tuesday."
Rule Two: Owners. Every monkey must have an owner. There is no such thing as a "shared" monkey. If two people own it, nobody owns it. The book is pretty ruthless about this. The monkey stays with the subordinate, and the manager’s role is strictly limited to support and coaching.
Rule Three: Insurance Policy. This is where the nuance happens. You don't want your team making catastrophic mistakes. So, you insure the monkey. You either "Recommend then Act" (they come to you with a plan, you approve, they do it) or "Act then Advise" (they handle it and tell you later). If the risk is high, you lean toward the former. If the risk is low, let them run.
Rule Four: Feeding and Checkups. You don't just set a deadline and pray. You schedule "feeding times." These are brief progress reports. It ensures the monkey doesn't starve (the project dies) and doesn't grow into a 500-pound gorilla that destroys your department.
Why We Secretly Love Taking the Monkey
Let’s get real for a second. Why do we do this? Why do managers constantly take on more than they can handle?
Honestly, it’s an ego thing.
When you solve someone’s problem, you feel important. You feel needed. There’s a hit of dopamine that comes with being the "fixer." If you let your team solve their own problems, you might start wondering what you're even there for.
That’s the "One Minute Manager" philosophy in a nutshell: the best manager is the one who makes themselves unnecessary. But that’s scary. It requires a level of humility that a lot of high-achievers struggle with. We’ve been rewarded our whole lives for having the right answers. To stop giving them feels like failing.
But it’s the opposite. By taking the monkey, you are actually depriving your team of the chance to grow. You are training them to be incompetent. Every time you say "I’ll handle it," you’re sending a message: "I don't trust you to do this." Over time, your best people will leave because they’re bored, and your worst people will stay because they’ve got a boss who does their work for them.
The Slack and Zoom Monkey: 2026 Edition
In the original book, monkeys were traded in hallways and physical offices. Today, they live in your inbox.
The "digital monkey" is much harder to spot. It looks like a "cc" on an email chain you don't need to be part of. It looks like a DM that says, "Hey, what do you think about [X]?"
If you reply with a detailed solution, you just adopted a monkey.
The modern application of One Minute Manager Meets the Monkey requires a digital gatekeeper mindset. When that Slack message hits, your response shouldn't be the answer. It should be a question: "What are the options you've considered so far?" or "What do you recommend as the next step?"
You have to be disciplined. It’s so much faster to just give the answer. Taking three minutes to coach someone on how to find the answer feels like a waste of time when you could just type ten words and be done. But those ten words are an invitation for ten more monkeys tomorrow. Coaching is an investment; answering is a debt.
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Real World Application: The "Monkey Audit"
If you’re currently drowning, you need to do a monkey audit. Sit down with your to-do list and look at every single item. Ask yourself: "Whose monkey is this?"
If the answer is "mine," great. Keep it. But if the answer is "technically it’s Sarah’s, but I’m doing the final edit," or "it’s the marketing team’s, but I’m waiting on a callback for them," you have a stray.
The goal isn't to dump these back on people’s desks in a fit of rage. You have to transition them. Schedule a "feeding" session. Tell the person, "I realize I’ve been holding onto the next move for this. I’m handing it back to you. I want you to come to me on Thursday with your recommendation."
It will be uncomfortable. They might struggle. They might even fail a little bit. That’s okay. That’s how people learn to handle monkeys.
Common Misconceptions About the Monkey
People often mistake this book for a license to be a lazy manager. It’s not.
The "One Minute Manager" isn't someone who works one minute a day. It's someone who spends their time on high-leverage activities—like strategy, culture, and removing systemic roadblocks—rather than getting bogged down in the day-to-day tactical moves of their staff.
Another misconception is that you can never help. Of course you can help. But "helping" should look like providing a ladder, not climbing the wall for them. If a team member is genuinely stuck because of a lack of resources or a political hurdle they can't clear, that’s your monkey. That’s manager-level work. Everything else stays with the team.
Actionable Steps to Clear Your Back
To stop being a monkey foster parent, you have to change your vocabulary starting today.
- Stop saying "Leave it with me." Replace it with "How can I support you in taking the next step?"
- Define the "Next Move." Never end a meeting without identifying exactly what the next physical action is and who owns it. If the owner is you, make sure it's because it requires your specific authority.
- Use the "Insurance" levels. For junior staff, use "Recommend then Act." For senior staff, use "Act then Advise." This scales the autonomy based on competence.
- Set "Feeding" appointments. Don't let people "pop in" with monkeys. Have a standing 10-minute check-in where they report on their monkeys. This keeps the monkeys out of the hallways and in the zoo.
- Audit your "Subordinate-imposed time." For one week, track how much of your day is spent doing tasks that someone else is actually paid to do. The number will probably shock you.
By the time you finish implementing these, your office (and your inbox) will feel lighter. You'll have time to actually lead. And your team? They'll finally have the chance to become the experts they were hired to be.
Next Steps for Implementation
Start by identifying the "Leaden Monkey"—the one project that is currently sucking up most of your time that shouldn't be your responsibility. Schedule a meeting with the actual owner tomorrow. Don't give it back all at once. Ask them to present a "Next Move" plan. Once they do, approve it, set a "feeding" date for three days later, and then—this is the hard part—don't touch it. Let them own the outcome.