Job Crafting: The Veterinary Burnout Conversation Nobody's Having
- Dr. Katie Ford MRCVS

- Mar 21
- 22 min read
A note before we start: This blog post is for general information and is not a replacement for professional medical or psychological advice. If you're struggling, please speak to your GP or primary care provider. If you're in distress, Vetlife (vetlife.org.uk, 0303 040 2551) offers free, confidential support 24 hours a day. You don't have to be in crisis to reach out. It can also be useful to read this alongside our other post on burnout here.

Here's something doable: job crafting
There's a conversation that happens a lot in veterinary wellbeing spaces. It goes something like this: the profession is broken, the workload is unsustainable, nothing will change until the system changes.
And to be clear, there's some truth in that.
The evidence consistently shows that organisational-level change produces more meaningful and lasting results than individual strategies alone (Panagioti et al., 2017; Cohen et al., 2023). We've always been upfront about that at Vet Empowered, and we're not about to stop.
But there's a space between "the system needs to change" and "there's nothing I can do," and it's a space that doesn't get nearly enough attention. That space is where job crafting lives.
What job crafting actually is
Job crafting is a concept that originated with Wrzesniewski and Dutton (2001), and it describes the process of employees proactively reshaping aspects of their own work. Not waiting for someone above them to redesign the role. Not asking permission to overhaul the entire practice structure. But making deliberate, often small, changes to the tasks they do, the relationships they invest in, and the way they think about their work.
It was later developed further within the Job Demands-Resources framework by Tims, Bakker and Derks (2012), who identified four dimensions of job crafting:
increasing structural job resources (like seeking feedback or learning opportunities),
increasing social job resources (like asking for support or building peer connections),
increasing challenging job demands (like taking on new projects that stretch you in a good way),
and decreasing hindering job demands (like reducing the tasks that drain you without adding value).
In plain language?
Job crafting is the art of making your working life a bit more yours, within the constraints you've got.
Job crafting is consistently associated with reduced burnout and increased work engagement across industries, cultures, and study designs (Rudolph et al., 2017). More on this below.
Why it matters for burnout
The JD-R model tells us that burnout develops when job demands consistently outweigh job resources (Bakker and Demerouti, 2007).
Most burnout conversations focus on reducing demands. Fewer shifts. Lighter caseloads. Better staffing. And those things absolutely matter. But job crafting works the other side of the equation too: it increases your resources. And the evidence suggests that's genuinely protective.

Gordon and colleagues (2018), in a high-quality quasi-experimental study in healthcare, found that when staff were empowered to redesign their task and relational boundaries, work engagement improved. That's not a small finding. Work engagement is essentially the opposite end of the spectrum from burnout, and anything that moves the needle toward it is worth paying attention to.
Tims, Bakker and Derks (2013) found that employees who engaged in job crafting reported increases in job resources over time, which in turn predicted higher work engagement and lower burnout. And critically, this wasn't about the organisation handing down changes from above. It was about individuals making proactive adjustments within their existing roles.
Rudolph and colleagues (2017), in a meta-analysis of job crafting research spanning 122 independent samples, confirmed that job crafting behaviours were positively associated with job satisfaction, work engagement, and job performance, and negatively associated with burnout. The effects were consistent across different industries, cultures, and study designs.
What this looks like in veterinary practice
This is where it gets practical. Because job crafting sounds academic until you translate it into what it actually means in a clinical environment.
Task crafting might look like having a conversation with your clinical lead about varying your caseload so you're not doing back-to-back euthanasias every Thursday. Or negotiating one protected admin session a week so you're not doing clinical notes at 9pm. Or shifting some of the tasks that drain you without adding clinical value, like certain stock checks or paperwork, to someone else in the team who's better suited to them or finds them less depleting.
Relational crafting might look like investing more in the colleague relationships that energise you. Mentoring a student or new graduate. Building a better working dynamic with a specific nurse or receptionist. Deliberately creating space for the five-minute conversations between consults that remind you why you're here, rather than treating every interaction as something to get through.
Cognitive crafting is the most internal and possibly the most powerful. It's about shifting how you frame the work. Not in a toxic positivity way, but in a way that reconnects you with the meaning in it. A vet who reframes their Monday morning consult block from "the boring vaccine clinic" to "the bit where I build long-term relationships with clients and catch things early" is doing cognitive crafting. It doesn't change the task. It changes the experience of the task.
The caveat that matters
Here's where we need to be honest, because this wouldn't be a Vet Empowered piece if we weren't.
Job crafting is not a substitute for systemic change. If your practice is chronically understaffed, if your workload is genuinely unsafe, if the culture is unhelpful, no amount of task tweaking or cognitive reframing is going to fix that. And positioning job crafting as the answer to a fundamentally broken environment would be doing exactly what we've always pushed back against: putting the burden of wellness entirely on the individual.
Gregory and colleagues (2018) demonstrated this tension perfectly. They studied an intervention where medical assistants were brought in to take administrative tasks off clinicians. It worked. Emotional exhaustion dropped. But by the six-month follow-up, workload scores had almost completely reverted to baseline because the structural support wasn't maintained. The point? Even when positive changes are made, they erode without ongoing organisational commitment. Job crafting by individuals can't compensate for that.
There's also an equity issue. Job crafting relies on a degree of autonomy that not everyone has. A senior vet partner has significantly more scope to reshape their role than a newly qualified nurse or a receptionist. Research by Berg, Wrzesniewski and Dutton (2010) highlighted that employees in 'lower-status' roles often face greater constraints on their ability to craft, which means the people who might benefit most from it are sometimes the least empowered to do it. (And just a reminder at Vet Empowered that we believe everyone is equally valuable, yet we have to be real about the levels of autonomy people are often given in different roles).
If you're in a leadership position, this is worth thinking about. How much genuine autonomy do the people in your team actually have to shape their working day?
11 ways job crafting could look in veterinary practice
These aren't hypothetical. They're the kinds of changes that are genuinely available in a lot of clinical environments, even if they don't feel like it right now. We can also trust that those of you in non-clinical work can see the equivalents for your workplace.
Remember, everyone is different. This isn't a to-do list. Often we have defaulted to believe that burning out means we haven't been tough enough (it's not - see our other post here). Here are some genuine changes that you might be able to have a conversation about, if you feel they might be beneficial to you. We've given lots of suggestions to get you thinking, not to tell you what to do.
1. Protected admin time.
One or two sessions a week, even half a day, where you're not on the clinical floor. You're writing up notes, catching up on lab results, doing CPD, or just processing the week. This isn't a luxury. It's how you stop clinical notes becoming a 9pm problem and how you create space for the reflective thinking that keeps you sharp.
2. Caseload variation.
If you're doing back-to-back difficult conversations every Thursday, or you're always the one who gets the aggressive (read as: scared) dog appointments that don't light you up, that's not sustainable. Having a conversation about rotating the emotionally heavy cases across the team isn't being difficult. It's being sensible. The research on clinical variety as a buffer against compassion fatigue supports this directly (Maresca et al., 2022).
3. Shifting non-clinical tasks.
How much of your day is spent on things that don't require your clinical qualification? Stock ordering, certain admin, phone calls that could be triaged differently. If those tasks could sit with someone else, what would you do with that time? This is exactly what Gregory et al. (2018) studied, and it worked, as long as it was maintained.
4. Mentoring or teaching.
For a lot of people in this profession, the spark comes back when they're helping someone else find theirs. Taking on a student, mentoring a new graduate, or running an in-house training session can reconnect you with the parts of the job that still feel meaningful. That's cognitive crafting in action. Equally, it might be arranging more time with your own mentor.
5. Rota input.
Not just being told your rota, but having genuine input into it. Which days work best for you. How the on-call is distributed. Whether there's flexibility around school runs, caring responsibilities, or simply the days where you know you're at your best clinically. This is basic autonomy, and the evidence on flexible scheduling and burnout is clear (Cohen et al., 2023).
6. Peer support structures.
A word on peer support done well. Regular tea breaks together, checking in on each other, having a culture where "that was a hard one" can be said out loud, all of that matters and it doesn't need to be complicated. But when it comes to more structured reflective spaces, how they're facilitated makes all the difference. An uncontained group debrief where everyone offloads without any structure or facilitation can leave people feeling worse, not better. It can retraumatise rather than support. If your practice is thinking about introducing more formal peer support or reflective sessions, it's worth looking at established models like Schwartz Rounds, which are specifically designed to create psychologically safe spaces for teams to reflect on the emotional impact of their work, with trained facilitation that holds the boundaries of the conversation. The evidence on peer support is clear: it works (Wahl et al., 2018). But "let's all sit in a room and talk about how hard things are" without someone skilled holding that space isn't peer support. It's a pressure cooker without a valve. Done well, these spaces are transformative. Done carelessly, they can do harm. It's worth investing in getting it right.
7. Pursuing a clinical interest
If there's an area of practice that lights you up, whether that's dentistry, behaviour, exotic medicine, ultrasonography, or anything else, is there scope to lean into it more? Even slightly? The "toward" energy of pursuing something that interests you is more protective than the "away from" energy of just trying to reduce what drains you (Lichtenthaler and Fischbach, 2019). This isn't about doing more work, it's about being able to lean into the work that lights you up.
8. Boundary agreements with your team.
This one is about making the unspoken spoken. What happens when you're running over? What are you expected to hand over and what are you expected to finish? What's OK to leave for the next day and what isn't? So many people in this profession stay late because they've assumed they have to finish everything, when their clinical lead would actually be completely fine with them handing something over. But nobody's ever had the conversation. We'll come back to this.
9. Communication about emotional load.
Being able to say "that was a hard one" after a difficult case without it being treated as weakness. Having a culture where checking in on each other is normal, not performative. This is relational crafting at its simplest and most powerful.
10. Input into practice decisions that affect you.
Not just being consulted after the fact, but being genuinely involved in decisions about scheduling, protocols, new systems, and ways of working. The JD-R model is clear: autonomy is a resource (Bakker and Demerouti, 2007). When people feel like they have a voice in how their work is structured, engagement goes up and exhaustion goes down.
11.Working as a team to align client expectations so everyone is giving the same message.
Asking for clarification. When do we tell clients blood results will be back? What's our standard callback timeframe? What does our email auto-responder say about replies and emergencies? When is it OK to say "tomorrow" rather than "today"? When do we make exceptions, and who decides? When the whole team, from reception to nursing to vets, is giving consistent information, it stops individual team members being put in impossible positions by promises someone else made or feeling pressure to deliver results in a time frame that doesn't exist. If technology can support this, even better. The goal is that no one in the team is firefighting expectations that were set by someone else without their input.
12.Getting clear on where your autonomy actually sits.
When can you make a call on a bill adjustment or a discount without checking? Which protocols can you follow and act on independently, and which ones need sign-off? Where's the line between "use your judgement" and "ask first"? When these boundaries are vague, you end up either second-guessing every decision (which is exhausting) or making a call and worrying afterwards whether you've overstepped (which is also exhausting). A ten-minute conversation that clarifies where your authority starts and ends can save hours of anxiety and stop you constantly chasing someone more senior for permission you might not have needed in the first place.
10 more quick-fire job crafting ideas
Requesting that client callbacks are triaged so you're only returning the ones that genuinely need your clinical input
Asking whether chronic or complex conditions can be booked into longer or double consult slots so you're not rushing the cases that need more time and you know will overrun regardless
Proposing a shared template for clinical handovers so the end of your day doesn't bleed into someone else's start
Agreeing as a team that it's OK to say "I'll call you back tomorrow" rather than resolving every query in real time
Asking for clarity on which CPD is supported and whether you can have protected time to actually do it
Suggesting a five-minute buffer between the last appointment and closing so the day doesn't end in a scramble every single time
Agreeing that non-urgent client queries are held by the reception team during surgery or procedure time rather than being put through to you mid-task. Or, being clear with the client care team who they can approach with questions, so they do not always go to the most agreeable person.
Asking to schedule in protective time for feedback and case discussion
Requesting that on-call shifts are followed by a later start or a lighter list the next day, rather than straight back into a full schedule
Requesting that stock ordering and inventory are given a dedicated time slot in the week rather than being squeezed into quiet moments that never come
This list isn't meant to be prescriptive. Your working life is yours, and the changes that would make the biggest difference to you might not be on any list.
Part of this work is sitting down, honestly, and asking yourself:
what drains my energy most? Not in a vague, everything-is-hard way, but specifically. Is it the rota? The callbacks? The admin? The emotional weight of certain cases? The feeling of never finishing?
Once you've named it, the next question is:
could anything about this be structured differently? Not fixed overnight, not overhauled completely, but adjusted, even slightly.
That's where job crafting starts. Not with a framework or a theory. With you, a quiet moment, and an honest look at what's actually costing you the most.
The conversation most people never have
Here's something we see a lot. Someone reaches their figurative last straw in a role.
They're exhausted, disillusioned, convinced that nothing will change. So they leave. They hand in their notice, or they quietly start looking elsewhere, and the practice only finds out what was wrong when it's too late. In the exit interview, if there even is one, the reasons come out. And so often, they're things that could have been addressed. A rota change. Protected time. A conversation about workload. A small structural shift that nobody knew was needed because nobody felt able to ask.
We've spent so long in this profession believing one of two things: either "I'm the problem" or "the job is the problem." And both of those beliefs lead to the same place: silence.
If you think you're the problem, you don't ask for changes because you assume you should just cope better.
If you think the job is the problem, you don't ask because you assume nothing will change anyway.
Either way, the conversation doesn't happen. And the middle ground, the place where something genuinely could shift, goes unexplored.
That middle ground is where job crafting lives. And it requires something that can feel incredibly uncomfortable in a profession that's trained us to just get on with it: it requires you to ask.
And here's something we really want you to hear. You are allowed to ask. You are allowed to say "this isn't working for me" and to suggest something different. You don't need to have earned it. You don't need to wait until you've been there long enough, or proved yourself enough, or until things get bad enough. You are allowed to ask now. The worst thing that can happen is they say no, and even then, you have more information than you had before. But so many people never get to that point because they've already said no to themselves. They've rehearsed the rejection in their head so convincingly that the conversation never happens. Don't be the one to say no to yourself. Let someone else answer the question before you decide what the answer is.
Why asking feels so hard (and why that's worth examining)
Let's be kind about this, because the barriers to having these conversations are real. They're not just practical. They're psychological. Let's release any judgement. None of these barriers are faults of yours, they're very common.
Some of it is the culture.
Many of us trained in environments where asking for adjustments was seen as weakness, where "resilience" meant enduring without complaint, and where the implicit message was that if you couldn't handle it, someone else would. That doesn't disappear just because you know intellectually that it's unhealthy. It lives in your body and your automatic responses. (When we ask for help and changes, we actually help create a change too! We often give others permission to do the same!)
Some of it is the inner critic.
The voice that says "everyone else manages, why can't I?" or "if I ask for less, they'll think I'm not committed" or "I should be grateful I have a job." That voice is running on old software. It developed to try to protect you, but it's not always telling you the truth about the present. There is another way.
Some of it is genuinely not knowing what to ask for.
When you've been operating in survival mode for long enough, the question "what would make this better?" can feel impossible to answer. You've been so focused on getting through each day that you haven't had the headspace to step back and think about what would actually help.
And some of it is about our own patterns.
This is the bit that needs saying honestly. Sometimes the thing keeping us stuck isn't just the system. It's something in us too. The belief that we have to finish everything before we're allowed to leave. The inability to delegate because we're convinced nobody else will do it properly, or they'll make a mistake. The pattern of saying yes when we mean no because we can't tolerate the discomfort of disappointing someone. The assumption that asking for what we need makes us difficult.
These patterns are understandable.
In many cases, they've served us well at some point. But they also keep us locked into ways of working that aren't sustainable. And here's the important bit: working on those patterns isn't the same as saying the burnout is your fault. It's saying that alongside the systemic changes that need to happen, there might also be some internal shifts that give you more room to breathe. Both things, as always, can be true.
Having the conversation: a practical guide
If you've never asked for a change to your working conditions, or if you've tried and it didn't go well, here are some things that might help.
Before we get into practical tips, let's acknowledge something. Everything that follows assumes a degree of psychological safety, that you're in an environment where raising a concern won't be held against you, and where there's at least one person in a leadership position who's willing to listen. For a lot of people, that's the case. But we know it isn't always. If you're not sure whether it's safe to have this conversation, or if past experience has taught you it isn't, trust that instinct. You have the right to take a colleague, a union rep, or a supportive person with you to any meeting with your employer. You can contact ACAS (acas.org.uk, 0300 123 1100) for free, confidential advice on your workplace rights at any time. And if the environment genuinely isn't safe, that's not a reason to stay silent forever. It's a reason to get the right support around you first. We also want to be honest that even in the best workplaces, even with all the right language and all the practical tips in the world, asking for what you need can still feel incredibly hard. That's normal. It doesn't mean you're not ready. It means you're human, doing something brave, in a profession that hasn't always made it easy to ask.
This is also viewed in the wider picture of burnout: speaking with your GP, rest as needed, support.
Start with one thing.
You don't need to try to redesign your entire role in a single conversation. Pick the one change that would make the biggest difference to your day-to-day experience right now. "Could we look at how the emergency rota is distributed?" is a conversation. "Everything about this place needs to change" is not.
Be specific about what you need, with compassion.
"I'm struggling" is one of the bravest things you can say out loud, and we will always champion that. If you're at the point where you can name it, please don't hold it in. That matters enormously, and any good manager should be able to hold that admission with empathy. But once you've said it, the next step is figuring out what might actually help, and you don't have to do that alone. A conversation with a coach, a counsellor, a trusted colleague, an occupational therapist, or even your GP can help you get clearer on what you need before you take it back to your manager. And when you do, something specific like "I'd find it really helpful to have one afternoon a week without clinical appointments so I can catch up on admin and CPD" gives them something concrete to respond to.
Name it as a conversation, not a complaint.
Framing matters. "I'd like to talk about how we could make my week more sustainable" can sometimes land differently from "I can't cope with my workload." Both might be true, but the first invites collaboration and the second can sometimes trigger defensiveness. It can also be valuable to come at it from a point of alignment and a "we" perspective. For example, "I know we all want the team to stay well and deliver great care, and I think there's a small change that could help with that and enable me to keep delivering that care" frames the conversation as something you're both on the same side of, rather than a problem you're bringing to someone's door. If you find these kinds of conversations difficult to structure, some people find non-violent communication (NVC) practices genuinely helpful. NVC offers a simple framework for expressing what you're observing, how you're feeling, what you need, and what you're requesting, without blame or judgement. It's not about being passive. It's about being clear and honest in a way that keeps the conversation open rather than shutting it down.
Ask what's negotiable.
This is the one most people skip. If you're someone who stays until everything is done, ask your clinical lead: what are you actually happy for me to hand over? What can wait until tomorrow? What's the real expectation versus the one I've invented in my head? You might be surprised by the answer. A lot of the pressure we carry is assumed, not assigned.
Agree when you'll revisit it.
One of the most common reasons workplace changes don't stick is that nobody builds in a review point. Something gets agreed in good faith, it works for a few weeks, then the old patterns quietly creep back in because nobody's checking. Before you leave the conversation, agree a specific date to come back to it. "Can we revisit this in four weeks and see how it's going?" takes ten seconds to say and turns a good intention into an actual commitment. It also gives you permission to raise it again without feeling like you're nagging. You're not chasing. You're following up on something you both agreed to.
If the first conversation doesn't land, try again differently.
Not every manager responds well the first time. Some need time to think. Some need it put in writing. Some need to hear it framed as a way it'll impact the wider team, your work and retention as well as wellbeing. That's not ideal, but it's reality. And it's worth trying more than once before you conclude that nothing will change.
Consider whether occupational health could help.
A lot of people don't realise that occupational health isn't just for when things have gone 'seriously wrong'. An occupational health referral can provide an independent, professional assessment of your working conditions and make recommendations to your employer that carry clinical weight. In most cases, OH is there to support you staying in work, not to create problems for you. If you're finding it hard to have the conversation directly, or if you've had it and nothing has changed, occupational health can act as a bridge. It's worth knowing that OH reports are typically shared with your employer, though you have the right to see them first, so if you want to understand how the process works before agreeing to a referral, just ask your HR department or practice manager. ACAS has a helpful, plain-language guide to how occupational health works at acas.org.uk/using-occupational-health-at-work, and we'd always encourage you to read up on how the process works so you feel informed and in control before you go in.
And if the conversation genuinely isn't possible?
If you're in an environment where raising concerns is unsafe, where you've been shut down repeatedly (write them down as you go), or where the culture actively punishes vulnerability, that's important information too. Not every workplace is ready to have this conversation. But that doesn't mean you're stuck. A coach, a counsellor, or even a trusted colleague outside the practice can help you figure out your options, including whether this is a workplace that deserves the investment of your energy.
The leaving question
We want to say something about leaving, because it comes up in almost every conversation we have about burnout.
Leaving is not failure. Sometimes it's the clearest, most self-respecting decision you can make. If you've had the conversations, explored the options, given the workplace a genuine chance to respond, and nothing has changed, moving on is not giving up. It's choosing to stop investing in something that has consistently shown you it won't invest back.
But, and this matters, a lot of people leave without ever having had the conversation. They assume the answer will be no. They assume nothing can change. They assume they're the problem, so what's the point of asking? And then the practice finds out in the exit interview that the whole thing could have been different.
We're not saying stay somewhere that's harming you.
We're saying: before you make that decision, make sure you've actually tested whether change is possible. Give your workplace the chance to surprise you. Some will. Some won't. But you deserve to make that choice based on evidence, not assumption.
A note on technology
Beyond the published evidence, there are also practical changes emerging in veterinary workplaces that are worth paying attention to. Tools like AI clinical scribes, automated lab integrations, and smarter practice management systems are starting to reduce the administrative burden that eats into so many people's days. That's genuinely promising.
But here's the caveat: if the time freed up by technology simply gets filled with more clinical work, more consults, more cases, then it's not reducing workload. It's just reorganising it. For these tools to make a real difference to burnout, the time they create needs to be protected for rest, recovery, reflection, or simply breathing space between appointments. Technology is only as helpful as the culture it operates within.
And if you're reading all of this thinking "I know something needs to change but I genuinely don't know what," that's OK. You don't need to arrive with a fully formed plan before you're allowed to ask for help. That's exactly where a conversation with occupational health, a coach, or a counsellor can be valuable. Sometimes the most useful thing someone else can do is help you figure out what you actually need, because when you're in it, that's one of the hardest things to see clearly.
Be the change
Here's the thing that's easy to miss in all of this. Every time you have one of these conversations, you're not just making your own working life a bit more sustainable. You're changing what's normal. You're showing the person next to you that it's OK to ask. You're giving your practice manager information they might genuinely not have had. You're proving, quietly, practically, that the system isn't as rigid as it feels. Because for so long, the assumption has been that the system is fixed and we're the ones who need to adapt. But the system was only ever made up of people. And people can do things differently. We're not saying it's easy, and we're not pretending every workplace is ready to hear it. But every conversation that happens makes the next one a little less unusual. Every boundary that gets respected makes boundaries a little more normal. Every vet, nurse, or practice manager who says "this isn't working, can we look at it?" chips away at the idea that struggling in silence is just part of the job. You don't have to overhaul the profession to make a difference. You just have to be one person, in one practice, willing to say something out loud. That's how cultures shift. Not from the top down. From the middle, outward.
Three questions to sit with
1. What's one thing about your working week that you've accepted as "just how it is" that actually might be open to change if you raised it?
2. If you imagine having a conversation with your manager about what you need, what's the first feeling that comes up? What might you need in the moment? What might you say to a friend feeling similarly?
3. What would it take for you to feel like your working day was sustainable? Not perfect. Not easy. Just sustainable. And how much of that is within reach if you asked for it?
The bigger picture
Job crafting isn't the whole answer. Nothing is. But it sits in that space between learned helplessness and systemic overhaul where most of us actually live our working lives. It's not about accepting a broken system. It's about finding the points within it where you have genuine leverage, and using them.
And it's about doing that alongside the deeper work too. Understanding your patterns. Recognising when the thing keeping you stuck is external and when it's internal. Building the self-awareness to know the difference. That's not blame. That's power.
The profession is changing. Slowly, imperfectly, but it is. And while it does, you don't have to wait for someone else to make your working life sustainable. You can start, in small ways, today. Not because it's your responsibility to fix what's broken. But because you deserve to spend your days doing work that feels like it's worth something, alongside people who have your back, in a way that doesn't cost you your health.
That's not too much to ask. Even if the profession has sometimes made it feel like it is.
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