Ohio Employer Law Blog | Daily Updates | 01CWIRTW #791: the 'awkward' edition>01D plus more

WIRTW #791: the 'awkward' edition

Have you ever seen a celebrity—someone whose work you genuinely love—and completely blown your shot at being normal?

Yeah. Same. It just happened to me.

My daughter and I were on our way to the House of Blues to see Descendents, Frank Turner & The Sleeping Souls, and Nobro. Here's a little secret: Frank Turner is low-key in my top three musicians at this moment in my life.

We parked the car and walked across East Fourth Street toward the venue for a pre-show dinner.

Then I glanced left.

And there he was. Frank Turner himself. Walking down the other side of the street like a regular human being, probably thinking about dinner. Maybe Valentine's Day. Maybe his performance in a few hours. Definitely not thinking about me.

My brain had about half a second to process all of this before my mouth took over.

"WOOO, FRANK TURNER!!!"

Not conversational. Not cool. Not subtle.

Full-volume sidewalk scream.

People stopped. Heads turned. I'm fairly certain a nearby couple thought I was alerting them to an emergency.

Frank's response? Barely a quarter nod. Not a smile. Not a wave. A fractional acknowledgment suggesting, "Yes, I hear you, loud fan," before continuing on his way.

Undeterred—because apparently I hadn't embarrassed myself and my daughter enough—I yelled after him, "We'll see you inside, Frank!"

Friends, he did not turn around.

In my head, this moment was supposed to unfold differently. He laughs. We chat. We discover mutual interests. We exchange numbers. We become besties. I casually mention him in conversation. "Oh yeah, Frank and I were texting…"

Instead, I yelled a man's name across a downtown street while he was out on a Valentine's Day pre-show stroll with his girlfriend.

Jon, not cool. But a story to tell, nonetheless.

To hear the rest of the story about our entire concert experience, check out this week's episode of The Norah and Dad Show, available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, Overcast, Amazon Music, in your browser, and everywhere else you get your podcasts.

Here's what I read this week that you should read, too.

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast: What 50 Seasons of Survivor Can Still Teach Employers — via Dan Schwartz's Connecticut Employment Law Blog

Your Company is Already Using AI. Where's Your Policy? — via Improve Your HR by Suzanne Lucas, the Evil HR Lady

When AI is the Boss, Who Maintains Liability? — via The L•E•Jer

My boss did a racist impression of a coworker — via Ask a Manager

Why Two Single-Slur Cases Never Reached a Jury — via Eric Meyer's Employer Handbook Blog

Trump touts 'we ended DEI' in State of the Union — via HR Dive

Out of "Site," But Not Out of Mind: Employer's Refusal to Respond to Offsite and Off-Duty Harassment Can Be Sufficient to Create a Claim for Hostile Work Environment — via Employment Law Lookout

Can Your Business Survive a Lawsuit? — via Rush on Business

US Department of Labor proposes rule clarifying employee, independent contractor status under federal wage and hour laws — via United States Department of Labor

Can You Fire Employees Who Don’t Return FMLA Forms? — via EntertainHR

One weird trick for busting your bartenders' union — via Fingers

Good News, Bad News for US Unions — via The Chief Organizer Blog

BrewDog Workers Protest Sale Citing 'Years of Catastrophic Mismanagement' — via The Drinks Business

Young Americans Trade Drinking at Home for Bars, Fitness — via Brewbound

Philadelphia's Craft Beer Scene Is Ready for Its Close-Up — via Brewers Association

A lesson on retaliation from the State of the Union

A lawmaker sits silently during a high-profile speech. He holds up a simple sign protesting a racially offensive depiction of a former president by the current president. No shouting. No profanity. Just a message: this is wrong.

Within minutes, he's escorted out.

Now take off the Capitol dome and put that scene in your workplace.

An employee complains about race discrimination. Maybe she objects to a racist meme circulating in the office group chat. Maybe she calls out a supervisor's "joke." She doesn't flip a desk. She doesn't torch the building or blast the company online. She just says, "This isn't okay."

Two days later, she's reassigned. Or written up. Or shown the door.

That's retaliation.

Under Title VII, employers cannot take an "adverse action" against someone because they opposed discrimination or participated in a complaint process. The opposition doesn't have to be polished. It doesn't have to be convenient. It just has to be a reasonable protest of unlawful conduct.

The standard for what qualifies as an "adverse action" is broader than many employers think.

It's not just termination. It's any action that might dissuade a reasonable worker from making or supporting a complaint of discrimination or harassment. Demotions. Pay cuts. Schedule changes. Undeserved discipline. Even subtle moves that materially alter job conditions.

The Supreme Court has made clear: if the employer's response would chill a reasonable person from speaking up, you've likely crossed the line.

Here's the mistake I see too often. Management focuses on whether the employee was disruptive. Annoying. Embarrassing. Public.

Wrong question.

The right question is this: would we have taken the same action if this employee had kept quiet?

If the honest answer is no, you're in retaliation territory.

Employees are allowed to protest discrimination. Even awkwardly. Even publicly. Even in ways that make leadership uncomfortable.

Employers, you don't get to punish the protest simply because you don't like the message. In the workplace, that escort to the door can turn into Exhibit A.

Culture is what you tolerate

We tell ourselves a comforting lie about bad behavior around sports.

It's just passion.
Just rivalry.
Just trash talk.

Until it's racism.
Until it's misogyny.
Until it's culture.

Two recent soccer incidents make this point.

In a Champions League match, Real Madrid star Vinícius Júnior alleged that Benfica's Gianluca Prestianni directed a racist taunt at him after a goal. The referee activated UEFA's anti-racism protocol. The match paused. An investigation followed.

UEFA has since banned Prestianni from the second leg.

Whether you think that's enough isn't the point. The point is that the governing body took action.

Later that same week, a Tottenham fan mocked Arsenal's Declan Rice while he was taking a corner, waving a photo of Rice's partner and ridiculing her weight. Not a player. Not part of the match. A private individual targeted because of her body.

Broadcast audio picked up Rice telling teammate Bukayo Saka: "When I went to take a corner, they were showing it, so obviously I was angry."

That's not rivalry. That's misogyny. It's also shameful.

We'll see whether Spurs act against the fan. It's been reported that the Premier League will fine the team £1M fine if they fail to identify the fan.

Now add politics to the mix.

Recently, Donald Trump criticized the U.S. women's national hockey team while speaking to the men's team, joking that he'd have to invite the women to the White House too or risk impeachment. The message was clear: their invitation wasn't about accomplishment. It was about obligation.

Agree or disagree with his politics — that's beside the point.

When influential leaders frame women's achievements as secondary or political, it reinforces a culture where dismissiveness feels normal.

And Trump, as usual, faces no consequences for what he says.

Leadership language sets tone. It signals permission — or restraint.

Culture signals what's acceptable.

Here's where this hits home for employers.

Workplaces love to talk about culture. But culture isn't what you publish. It's what you tolerate.

If racist jokes get a pass because "that's just how he is," that's culture.
If sexist comments are brushed off as banter, that's culture.
If high performers escape discipline because they produce, that's culture.

Words aren't "just words." In the workplace, they create hostile environments, erode trust, and generate legal risk. Many discrimination cases aren't built on one explosive event, but on patterns of tolerated disrespect.

The stadium and the office aren't so different. Both are competitive. Both run on emotion. Both reflect leadership response.

When leaders minimize bias, others learn it's safe.
When leaders act, others learn it's not.

Racism and misogyny don't thrive because policies are missing.

They thrive because enforcement is.

If you want a culture of respect, don't announce it.

Prove it — especially when it's uncomfortable.

A wiener of a lawsuit

A bun propped itself atop the deli counter and declared itself lunch. It was golden. Perfectly split. Structurally sound. "Look at my form," it said. "I'm ready to be served." But there was no hot dog inside. All bun, no meat.

That's Mendoza v. Dietz & Watson.

Adela Mendoza, a production employee, sued after her termination, alleging sexual-orientation discrimination, retaliation, and hostile work environment. Dietz fired her for insubordination after she failed to follow a directive to move to a different production line when hers went down. She admitted she knew the rule: insubordination could mean discharge.

The employer's legitimate, nondiscriminatory reason doesn't have to be fancy. It just has to exist and be supported by the record. Here, it had weight. It had snap.

Mendoza tried to build her case around broader allegations—being "regularly singled out," vague claims of anti-gay comments, complaints about the phrase "hey guys." But at summary judgment, you don't get served on presentation alone. Courts require substance. Specifics. Record citations. Something a jury can actually chew on.

As the court eloquently put it: "Judges are not like pigs, hunting for truffles buried in the record."

The court found the evidence too thinly sliced to create a genuine dispute of fact. Months separated her complaint and her termination—too long for meaningful temporal proximity. She couldn't tie her protected activity to the decisionmaker. And the alleged comments, even viewed in her favor, weren't severe or pervasive enough to turn workplace friction into a Title VII violation.

In other words: all bun, no dog.

The structure of a discrimination case matters. Prima facie case. Legitimate reason. Pretext. But structure without evidence is just bread. The employer had documented rules, consistent enforcement, and a clear reason for termination. The plaintiff had suspicions and generalities.

Courts aren't in the business of serving empty meals.

Employers: Consistently applied policies and contemporaneous documentation are your meat. Without them, you're just waving a bun around and hoping no one notices what's missing. Courts and juries, however, will notice. Employers: Consistently applied policies and contemporaneous documentation are your meat. Without them, you're just waving a bun around and hoping no one notices what's missing. Courts and juries, however, will notice. I don't at all relish being in that position.

WIRTW #790: the 'protest' edition

Rock 'n' roll has a long history of protest music.

From Woody Guthrie's Tear the Fascists Down to Rage Against the Machine's Killing in the Name, musicians have been poking power in the eye for decades. It's loud. It's uncomfortable. That's the point.

Right now, the amps are pointed squarely at ICE.

Springsteen has drawn headlines. U2 just added its voice. When global superstars wade into immigration enforcement, reaction is guaranteed.

But if you want to understand the emotional core of this moment, don't start with the arena tours.

Start with Billy Bragg's City of Heroes.

This isn't subtle. It's not abstract.

It's a song about complicity.

Bragg opens with the ghost of Martin Niemöller—the pastor whose post-WWII confession about silence in the face of Nazi persecution still echoes.

"When they came for the communists..."
"When they came for the Democrats..."
"When they came for Jews..."

The point is familiar: silence feels safe—until it isn't.

Bragg brings that warning into the present tense, asking: What excuses would you tell yourself if this ever happened to you?

That's not policy debate. That's conscience.

Then it turns personal.

The refrain isn't passive. It's not "I posted." It's not "I tweeted."

It's: "I got in their face."

When they came for immigrants…
For refugees…
For five-year-olds…
To my neighborhood…
When they dragged people from their cars…
Took families from their homes…
Murdered our sister…
Murdered our brother…

…I got in their face.

Bragg ends with a vow: to bear witness to terror, to tyranny, to murder, to fascism.

This isn't about policy. It's about refusing to look away.

I created a playlist of protest songs. Some were written in the shadow of fascism in Europe. Some were born in the civil rights era. Some were recorded in the last news cycle.

Different decades. Different villains. Same instinct.

When artists believe government has crossed a line, they write. They record. They dare you to listen. And to do something.

You don't have to agree with every lyric. You don't have to like the politics. You may think some of it is overwrought.

That's fine.

But protest music tells you something about the cultural moment—what people fear, what they value, what they think is at stake.

What’s missing from my protest pantheon? Drop me an email and tell me what else belongs on the playlist.

Here's what I read this week that you should read, too.

Did You Hear That? Smart Glasses, AI Voice Recorders and Workplace Recordings — via Dan Schwartz's Connecticut Employment Law Blog

Claude, ChatGPT, and Privilege: Proceed With Caution, Employers — via Eric Meyer's Employer Handbook Blog

U.S. DOL Unveils AI Literacy Framework — via Joe's HR and Benefits Blog