What is Discretionary Effort?

How Leadership Style Unlocks the Effort You Can’t Demand

“Discretionary effort is an unspoken loyalty to a leader who inspires, not insists.” — Kevin Guiney

In leadership development circles, there's a concept that doesn't always get the airtime it deserves: discretionary effort.

I was introduced to this idea in the late 1990s during a logistics leadership development program. Later, working in HR in the early 2000s, we wove it into our internal performance management training—specifically within the framework of ABC motivation theory: Antecedents, Behavior, and Consequences. Discretionary effort was central to the conversation.

Discretionary effort is the extra output a person chooses to give—the effort beyond what's expected or explicitly paid for. It's staying late to finish a task without being asked, double-checking a job to ensure accuracy, or stepping in to help a colleague on a tight deadline. It's essentially the difference between "just doing the job" and leaning into it with care, pride, and ownership.

But here's the kicker: you can’t demand discretionary effort. One of the challenges we faced during our rollout of the performance management training was helping supervisors understand this. Some thought you could just pound on the desk and say, "I want more and I want it now!" That completely misses the point.

Discretionary effort stems from how employees perceive they're being treated—not how you think you're treating them, but how they experience it. That distinction is everything. Positive reinforcement, authentic appreciation, and trust-based leadership are key to unlocking that extra mile. Recognition must be timely and genuine—delivered in a way that resonates with the employee.

In fact, we used to talk about the power of the handwritten thank-you card. Simple, sincere gestures often have more impact than generic programs or forced incentives. But recognition can also take other forms: giving a worker a better workstation, upgrading their tools, or offering more autonomy—all things that not only improve the work experience but benefit the organization, too.

Discretionary effort stands in contrast to what’s now commonly referred to as "quiet quitting." In this context, quiet quitting isn’t about slacking off—it’s about employees doing exactly what’s required and not a bit more. No overtime, no extra touches, no initiative outside the box. And why should they go further if they feel unrecognized, underpaid, overworked, or disconnected from the mission?

That’s why this understanding of discretionary effort is so valuable. When employees feel aligned with purpose, treated with respect, and recognized meaningfully, they often want to give more. One of my favorite stories that captures this spirit is the tale of President Kennedy visiting NASA in 1962. During a tour, he reportedly saw a man mopping the floor and asked what he was doing. The man replied, “Well, Mr. President, I’m helping to put a man on the moon.”

Whether the story is true or not, the message holds: when people believe their work matters—when they see how their effort contributes to a greater goal—they show up differently. They give more.

I’ve seen this firsthand.

Each October in railway operations, we prepare the switches for winter. The work involves installing heating ducts to melt snow—critical to keeping trains moving. Normally, this takes a week with Track and Signal teams working together. But one year, an unexpected storm was forecasted for October 5th.

Without the ducts in place, train movement would grind to a halt. On that particular day, I was at one end of the territory, and the Track Supervisor was at the other, 80 miles away. We quickly decided to delegate our teams to each other, due to our proximity to each crew, and blitz the most critical switches.

When I met up with his track crew, they were already on the job—fully engaged, hustling to get ahead of the storm. But I noticed something: they were using a manual ratchet instead of an electric impact, which my crew typically used to save time. I asked where their electric tools were. The foreman told me they didn’t have any since they usually worked alongside my team.

So I drove into town, picked up a high-quality electric impact and extension cords, and brought them back. You’d have thought I’d given them gold. The team was grateful—not just for the tool, but for the respect that came with the gesture. I thanked them personally for jumping in. Later, their supervisor offered to charge the cost back to his budget, and I said no—this is what teamwork looks like.

Thanks to the combined effort—and some overtime—we protected the most important switches and kept operations running smoothly despite the storm. Not one train was delayed.

This wasn’t about overtime or budgets. It was about pride in work. It was about recognizing the effort already being given and finding a small but meaningful way to make the job better. That tool wasn’t just about efficiency—it was a reward. One that said, "We see you, and we’ve got your back."

Discretionary effort is earned. It’s the byproduct of leadership that trusts, supports, and appreciates. It doesn’t come from slogans or pressure—it comes from creating a workplace where people want to do more.

And sometimes, all it takes to keep that spirit alive is a thank-you card—or an electric impact.