From the outside, being a locum can appear to be a form of freedom. Flexible hours. Control over workload. A way to avoid burnout.
We had a chat with Molly, a registered veterinary nurse with a passion for emergency and critical care, about her experience as a locum. Six months after qualifying, driven by a change in family circumstances and inspired by seeing others do it, she stepped into locum work, thinking it would be a short-term solution.
What she didn’t expect was how quickly the cracks in the system would reveal themselves.
Instead of flexibility, she found isolation. Instead of structure, chaos. And instead of support, silence.
That experience didn’t just change her career. It changed her understanding of how deeply broken the veterinary locum system really was.
When “flexible” really means unsupportive.d
There is no formal pathway into locum work for veterinary professionals. No specific accreditation. No guidance. No formal onboarding. As Molly discovered, becoming a locum can be as simple and as risky as messaging a practice and asking if they need help.
At first, that simplicity feels empowering. You can largely control your hours, your rates, and your diary.
But for newly qualified professionals, especially, the reality is far more complex. Every practice is different: policies, workflows, team dynamics, expectations, even how basic systems like invoicing or booking appointments work. Moving between them without support quickly becomes overwhelming.
When mistakes happen, and they inevitably do, there is nowhere to turn. No mentor. No peer network. No shared learning.
What starts as individual stress soon becomes a wider problem.
When systems fail, people get blamed.
Molly quickly noticed a pattern. Locums were often labelled as “the problem”, incompatible, disruptive, unreliable. But the deeper issue wasn’t the people. It was the absence of systems.
Practices under pressure were bringing in locums reactively, often through last-minute SOS posts, without induction, preparation, or clarity. Locums walked into already fragile environments and were expected to instantly stabilise them.
When that didn’t happen, frustration followed.
Stress was projected onto the most visible outsider in the room.
This blame culture masks a harder truth: locums don’t create dysfunction, they expose it.
Well-run practices experience locums as relief. Poorly supported practices experience them as a disruption.
The pressure cooker behind recruitment and retention
The veterinary staffing crisis isn’t just about numbers. It’s about intensity.
Caseloads have increased faster than staffing capacity. Emotional demands have risen. And the old culture of pushing through burnout “because it’s the job” no longer holds.
At the same time, workforce planning has remained largely reactive. Recruitment is prioritised. Retention is an afterthought.
When practices lose staff, the gap widens. Remaining team members absorb the pressure. Burnout accelerates. Locums are brought in too late, under the wrong conditions, and expected to compensate for systemic issues.
The result is a cycle that repeats itself and worsens over time.
The emotional load no one talks about
One of the most underestimated factors in veterinary attrition is emotional labour.
Clinical work carries grief, responsibility, moral distress, and constant decision-making under pressure. When that emotional load isn’t processed in real time, through check-ins, reflection, or psychological safety, it accumulates.
By the time someone realises they’re struggling, the damage is already done.
Molly’s insight is simple but powerful: dealing with emotional stress early doesn’t feel impactful in the moment, but it prevents collapse later.
Why locums divide opinion
Locums often trigger strong reactions. Loved or loathed, rarely neutral.
Money plays a role. So does dependence. But at a deeper level, locums challenge identity.
They introduce boundaries. They disrupt the illusion of “normal.” They reflect how resilient, or fragile, a practice really is.
And because they’re temporary, they become the easiest place to put discomfort.
Yet when practices build locums into their workforce strategy intentionally, as a known, trusted extension of the team, those tensions largely disappear.
From frustration to infrastructure
Molly didn’t set out to build a platform. She set out to see if anyone else felt the same way she did.
They did.
What began as a community became Management For Locums (MFL), a system designed around compatibility, transparency, and proactive planning, rather than crisis response.
MFL doesn’t “sell shifts.” It helps practices build their own locum banks, understand their needs, set expectations clearly, and communicate before pressure hits.
For locums, it provides structure, compliance, and professional respect.
For practices, it replaces chaos with clarity.
Most importantly, it reframes locums not as disposable labour, but as skilled professionals who can strengthen teams when the right systems are in place.
A system that works for humans
The future of veterinary staffing won’t be solved by one model alone. But it will require better systems, better planning, and a better understanding of human factors.
Locums aren’t going away. Flexible working isn’t a trend, it’s a shift.
Practices that plan for it will stabilise.
Those who don’t will keep firefighting.
Molly’s message is clear: if you want locums to work, the system has to work first.
About Management For Locums (MFL)
MFL supports veterinary practices and locum professionals by building structured, compliant, and human-centred locum workflows. By focusing on compatibility, proactive planning, and community-led design, MFL helps reduce stress, financial leakage, and burnout on both sides.
👉 Learn more about MFL and how it can support your practice or locum career via the link below.
https://www.managementforlocums.com/
Watch Molly’s session at Day 1: Let’s Talk About Locums - COMING SOON