Would You Donate a Pint of Blood for an Extra Day of Paid Time Off?

My grandfather graduated from Thomas Jefferson high school in Brooklyn in 1930. He passed when I was three years old and I never had the opportunity to learn much from him directly. I do, however, treasure some of the lessons that have been passed down indirectly. One such lesson made it to me recently in the form of his high school yearbook.

Two letters preface the book that could not have diverged more in substance and tone.

The principal, Mr. Elias Lieberman, wrote to that graduating class 94 years ago that "in this world of uncertainty and change, [...] there are a few guiding principles which you may well consider. Success, the pursuit of all of us, is useless unless it can bring us happiness. And happiness, delightful, little, bluebird won't sing for us unless:

• We are healthy.
• We have a good job or profession.
• We have realized or are realizing our talents or abilities in full measure.
• We have leisure time for cultural interests and refreshing recreation.

My hope for you is that you won't sell your happiness for a mess of pottage. Plainly speaking, I pray that you won't ever wish to barter the song of the bluebird for just a lot of moneybags. Moneybags cannot sing."

Turn to the next page in the yearbook to find a stark reality check penned by another teacher, Miss Edith Simons: "one of my college professors" - she wrote - "used to say that a person was prepared to take his place in the world when he had learned to do what he ought to do, when he ought to do it, and that he ought to do it whether he liked it or not. It is this preparation which I hope you have received in Thomas Jefferson High School."

In just a few pages, pursuit of happiness and duty stood in opposition as core values at Thomas Jefferson High. I recon it is no coincidence that that Greatest Generation developed the stamina to endure the Great Depression, the strength to destroy Nazi Germany and Japan, the compassion to rebuild those countries, and the ingenuity to transform the world economy.

My grandad was no Oppenheimer (he became a printing press operator at the New York Times, a union man, and likely a commie) but he had certainly been forged in a country that understood freedom and individual happiness within the bounds of service to country and community.

I frequently find myself thinking about that balance between duty and pursuit of happiness and wish I could speak to my grandfather to get some advice. I've spent most of my career working at or with tech startups. Startup culture at its best values collaboration, initiative, productive work and mutual respect. At its worst, it uses codewords to mask good ole office politics, conceal toxic behaviors and sanction dysfunctional hierarchies.

Tech startups try hard to formalize company values that guide team members to excel. I have been inspired myself by Zoosk Inc. 's be a doer, Ethos Life's bias for impact, and Chapter's put members first. But I have also participated in the ambiguity created by sets of values that don't clearly remind employees how once in a while -- just once in a while -- we are required to do things that are not fun. Sometimes something just needs to get done.

This is where modern company culture often faces a dilemma: how can you say you value duty without saying you value duty?

Duty, as Edith Simons described it, is not glamorous. It’s not the kind of word that fits neatly into mission statements or attracts talent in the way that more vibrant values do. You won’t find many companies adding "duty" to their values next to innovation, creativity, or inclusion. And for good reason. Duty sounds old-fashioned, bureaucratic, and uninspiring in an era where job satisfaction and work-life balance are prized.

But here’s the reality: every company, no matter how "cool" or cutting-edge, depends to some extent on people taking ownership of initiatives and tasks they don't really enjoy. Duty is an unsung hero of the workplace. Without it, even the most creative and dynamic organizations would grind to a halt.

As I walked down Broadway this morning, I imagined how a conversation with grandpa Harvey might have gone: he reminded me that actions speak louder than words, and said that a company might not need to print "duty" on their walls, but they can instead demonstrate its importance through policies and actions. Seconds later my phone vibrated with a text: it wasn't grandpa, it was the New York Blood Center with an appointment reminder.

This gave me an idea: what if companies didn’t just talk about duty but actively encouraged it through their policies? One way to do this is by evolving traditional paid time off (PTO) structures.

Imagine a company that starts with a standard two weeks of annual PTO, but gives employees the opportunity to expand that time to four weeks by contributing to their community. These additional weeks wouldn’t just be handed out—they’d be earned through acts of service: donating blood, volunteering at local shelters, working at the polls on election day, and more. (For clarity: the two extra weeks of PTO would be in addition to any time needed to carry out the act of service. For example, if you take a morning off to donate platelets, you would still earn an additional day of PTO to use in the future at your discretion).

This policy would do two things. First, it would reinforce the value of duty without needing to explicitly label it as such. Employees would see that the company values community service and personal responsibility, all while maintaining the freedom to choose how they serve. Second, it would connect employees with a greater purpose, giving them the space to do something meaningful outside of work while also recharging for the tasks they might not always enjoy back at the office.

This approach to paid time off aligns personal happiness with a sense of duty—mirroring the balance that my grandfather’s generation understood so well. It helps us realize that true fulfillment often comes not from what we get, but from what we give. By rewarding acts of service, companies can foster a culture that is both productive and compassionate, where duty and happiness coexist, rather than stand in opposition.

So, what's your opinion? Would you donate a pint of blood to earn an extra day of paid time off?