Redesigning Work Around Human Needs
“We live in a culture that has institutionalized the denial of human needs.” - Marshall Rosenberg
The Rigidity of Work Expectations
For most of us, work is where we spend the majority of our lives. Yet so often, the way we’ve designed work denies the very needs that make us human. Fixed long hours, uncomfortable work settings, an always-on mentality, and an expected silence around personal or family responsibilities. These norms have become the markers of “professionalism,” even though they leave many people struggling to keep up.
Like many people, I internalized the idea that discipline meant long hours, few breaks, and putting personal needs aside. I’m still unlearning that. But these days, I experiment: changing my schedule, my setting, pausing when I need to, building in rest, making space for caregiving, joy, and connection. It’s not perfect, but every experiment reminds me how ingrained those old norms are, and how much intention it takes to imagine something different… which is why I find such joy in supporting others in these endeavors.
For me, it’s always worth remembering that jobs and organizations weren’t created to demand unquestioning devotion. They were built to serve human needs: grocery stores to feed families, schools to educate children, service shops to make daily life easier. Somewhere along the way, that flipped. Instead of jobs existing to care for people, people became responsible for caring for the jobs… keeping the business alive, no matter the personal cost. At their worst, these systems ask us to work against our own wellbeing, and instead of interrupting that cycle, we’ve normalized it.
Along those lines, I was fascinated when I recently learned that economist John Maynard Keynes once predicted that by now, technological advances would allow us to work just 15 hours a week. He assumed efficiency would free us to prioritize life over labor (and that this is something we would seize). Instead, the opposite happened. As productivity increased, so did expectations. This “Jevons Paradox” meant that gains in efficiency didn’t buy us back time; they fueled more output. Rather than redesigning work to give people fuller lives, we reinforced the idea that people’s lives should bend to serve their jobs.
In the social impact sector, these norms are upheld and then reinforced by the ongoing need for services. The stakes are high, the needs feel endless, and urgency becomes the default. Many leaders and staff push themselves harder and longer, believing that sacrifice is the only way to meet the mission. But this denial of human needs and hierarchy of who deserves them is the very reason we have most of today’s societal issues to begin with, and as such, inadvertently, the very organizations designed to serve communities often end up draining the people within them. Instead of modeling sustainability, our organizations risk replicating the same patterns of harm we’re working to change. When we see these patterns clearly, it can feel discouraging, but it can also be liberating. Because if our systems are designed this way, it means we also have the power to redesign them.
How We Can Do It Differently
This is why I’m drawn to human-centered design, especially through a trauma-informed lens. It begins with two simple questions:
Whose needs and realities are being overlooked?
How might we design in ways that acknowledge and honor those needs?
Designing around humanity doesn’t mean abandoning accountability or outcomes. It means recognizing that humanity is a strength, not a weakness, and that flexibility and care actually enable us to show up more fully (and with positive effects on our outputs).
As an example, many of the teams I work with often grapple with expectations to respond to emails and requests outside of work hours. It’s a common need to create policies and practices that honor downtime and protect boundaries. But recently, I met with a team that already had strong “no after-hours work” norms in place, yet morale was incredibly low.
As they dug deeper, something surfaced: most staff were parents of young children. Their challenge wasn’t late-night emails. It was the daily rhythm of sick kids, school pickups, and unpredictable schedules. They didn’t need stricter rules about being “off.” They needed more flexibility around being “on.”
Together, the team reimagined their schedule. Instead of banning communication outside traditional hours, they created norms around irregular hours: sending updates at 9 p.m. was fine as long as no one was expected to reply until their own workday began. With a few shifts in how they communicated, and mechanisms to ensure appropriate support for one another and those that they served, everyone had more breathing room. The result? People felt supported, trusted, and more fulfilled at work.
So, how might you put this into practice?
Reflect on your personal practices: When stress or overwhelm shows up on your team, what might your response signal? Judgment, urgency, or care? How might you respond in ways that signal care and build trust?
Explore with your team: Where are deadlines, processes, or expectations unintentionally creating pressure? How might you experiment with making changes to create more ease and allow for your team’s very real human needs?
Dare to dream: If you could design a work day that truly met your personal needs, what would that look like? How might you start taking small steps to move yourself toward that?