The long weekend that isn't quite so simple
Imagine that, starting next month, you could leave work on Thursday and still receive the same salary. It sounds too good to be true. Perhaps you would finally visit a friend, take a course or simply have a slow Friday morning. But then your manager announces that every deadline will stay the same. Suddenly, a three-day weekend comes with a catch: you may have to work flat out from Monday to Thursday.
That worry explains why a genuine shorter working week is different from squeezing five long days into four. In the best-designed experiments, teams find ways to cut back on unnecessary meetings, organise their work better and avoid being constantly interrupted. The aim is to reduce hours without cutting pay or quietly piling more pressure onto workers.
In 2022, 61 UK organisations, employing about 2,900 people, tried shorter hours for six months. Fifty-six said afterwards that they wanted to carry on. Surveyed workers reported less stress and burnout. A later peer-reviewed international study published in 2025 followed almost 2,900 workers at 141 organisations and also reported improvements in well-being. These are encouraging results, although the employers had chosen to take part and might not represent every workplace.
The idea also raises an awkward question: who gets an extra day off, and who keeps everything running? An office might be able to replace three weekly meetings with one clear message. A café still needs someone to make lunch. Hospitals must care for patients around the clock. Those staff deserve rest too, but their employers may have to stagger days off, hire more people or offer different forms of flexibility.
Even among people who have a free Friday, the day may not feel free. One person goes hiking; another catches up on childcare, housework or caring for an older relative. An extra day can be a real lifeline, but it can also disappear into unpaid responsibilities. A fairer arrangement may depend on giving employees some say rather than assuming the same timetable suits everyone.
Small businesses face a particular dilemma. A large employer may be able to cover shifts across several teams, whereas a local shop with three staff could be stretched thin. Its owner might support the principle yet fear letting customers down or increasing prices. Dismissing that worry as an excuse would be unfair. So would demanding that employees keep working long hours simply because change is inconvenient.
There's another lesson from a different experiment. The technology company Buffer once found that an unlimited-holiday policy did not mean everyone took enough leave. People sometimes hesitate to take time off when colleagues look busy or the unspoken expectation is always to be available. On paper, a generous policy can look brilliant; in practice, workplace culture makes all the difference.
If your workplace were considering a trial, what would tip the balance? You might ask for a clear promise about pay, a plan to keep services running, and an honest way to check whether people are exhausted by Thursday. Employers should be willing to listen if things go wrong. Workers should be able to admit that a popular experiment has problems without being accused of letting the team down.
Perhaps the strongest case for trying a four-day week is not that it will transform every business overnight. It is that many working habits are worth questioning. A sensible trial gives people room to make mistakes, hear objections and go back to the drawing board. The prize isn't simply another Friday off. It is a working life in which time, fairness and good work can coexist.
