Not when they walk through the office door. There is no office door.

So is it when they log in? When they boot up their computer? When they launch the software that actually lets them take calls?

For remote non-exempt employees, those questions aren’t academic. They’re the difference between paid time and unpaid time.

And the 6th Circuit just signaled it’s ready to answer them.

In a case involving remote call center workers, the court is taking up when the workday actually starts for non-exempt employees who must power up computers, log into multiple programs, and get fully “call ready” before they can do the job they’re paid to perform.

That matters under the FLSA. Because once the workday begins, the pay clock is running.

Historically, the “continuous workday” doctrine tied compensable time to the first principal activity. In a physical workplace, that might be donning required gear or logging into a workstation.

But what’s the first principal activity for a remote call center employee?

Is it turning on the computer? Logging into the VPN? Opening the call-handling software? Or only when they’re officially available to take calls?

Employees will argue that all the required boot-up and log-in steps are integral and indispensable to their jobs—and therefore compensable. Employers will argue that the workday starts only once the employee is fully operational and ready to take calls.

The 6th Circuit now gets to draw that line.

Here’s the problem: in a remote environment, that line is anything but clear. And ambiguity is fertile ground for wage-and-hour litigation—especially class and collective actions.

If your business uses remote employees, you should be paying attention.

Define when the workday begins. Be explicit about what pre-shift activities are required—and which are indispensable versus ancillary. Align your timekeeping systems with the reality of how employees actually start their day. And train managers not to create expectations that employees should be “ready to go” before their paid time begins.

Because if employees must perform a series of required steps before they can do their jobs, a court may very well decide that the workday starts with the first of those steps—not the last.

The 6th Circuit may soon give us clarity. Don’t count on it landing where you want.

     

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Those were the concluding words in a scribe Bill Ackman, a hedge fund CEO, posted on X in defense of a discrimination lawsuit facing his company.

His post, while deeply personal, is a masterclass in how NOT to handle employment litigation.

Let me be clear. CEOs absolutely have the right to defend their companies against what they believe are meritless claims. Some lawsuits are opportunistic. Some are not. That's what courts are for.

But the moment a CEO decides to litigate that dispute in the court of public opinion, the risk calculus changes—and not in the company's favor.

Start with control. Once you take your story public, you no longer own it. The narrative splinters. Media outlets cherry-pick details. Social media amplifies outrage. And plaintiff's counsel? They sit back and watch you do their work for them.

Because that's the second problem—you're creating evidence. Every assertion, every characterization, every "fact" you post is now part of the record. Opposing counsel will dissect it line by line, looking for inconsistencies, exaggerations, or admissions. What feels like a defense becomes a deposition exhibit and evidence of pretext.

Third, you're inflating the stakes. Most employment cases are business decisions dressed up as legal disputes. They resolve quietly because that's often the rational outcome. But once you go public, you've turned a dispute into a spectacle. Now settlement isn't just about dollars—it's about saving face.

Fourth, you're undercutting your own lawyers. Effective legal strategy requires discipline, precision, and timing. A CEO posting a blow-by-blow account on X is the opposite of all three. You're not helping your case; you're destabilizing it.

And then there's your workforce. Employees aren't reading your post as a principled stand. They're asking a simpler question: if something goes wrong for me, will my employer take it to the internet? That's not a culture-builder.

None of this means CEOs should roll over. They shouldn't. Defend the case. Take it to trial if necessary. Push back against meritless claims.

But do it in the right forum.

Because the court of public opinion has no rules of evidence, no burden of proof, and no off switch. And once you step into it, you may win the argument, and lose everything else.

      

Norah and I covered a range of other topics, including food poisoning, a preview of her upcoming trip to New York City, travel horror stories (including Times Square on New Year's Eve and a very questionable museum couch), and speed traps. You can listen via Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, Amazon Music, Overcast, your browser, and everywhere else you get your podcasts. 

     

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Let that sink in.

Not compensation. Not commute. Not a bad boss. Mental health.

The latest NAMI-Ipsos Workplace Mental Health poll paints a pretty stark picture: employees are stressed, overwhelmed, and—critically—don't feel safe talking about it at work. Nearly half fear judgment. Even fewer trust HR or leadership with these conversations.

That's not just a culture problem. It's a retention problem. And, increasingly, a legal one.

What can employers actually do about it?

Start with the basics. The same NAMI-Ipsos survey found that more than 80% of employees want training on stress, burnout, and crisis response. Give it to them—not a one-off webinar no one remembers, but ongoing, practical training for both employees and managers.

Train managers to recognize warning signs—withdrawal, missed deadlines, sudden performance drops—and to respond appropriately. Not as therapists, but as informed leaders who know when to listen and when to escalate.

Make your resources visible and usable. An EAP buried in a handbook isn't a benefit. Regularly communicate what's available, how to access it, and normalize using it. If leadership never talks about these tools, employees assume they shouldn't use them.

Flexibility matters more than most employers realize. A significant share of the workforce is in what's sometimes called the "sandwich generation"—simultaneously caregiving for children and aging parents. For these employees, rigid schedules and unsustainable workloads aren't just inconvenient; they're breaking points. Thoughtful scheduling, remote options, and realistic workload expectations go a long way toward reducing burnout before it becomes a resignation.

And then there's culture—the piece that makes or breaks everything else. If employees believe speaking up will make them look weak or cost them opportunities, they'll stay silent until they quit. Leaders set the tone. When mental health is treated as legitimate and discussable, stigma starts to erode. When it isn't, all the EAP communications in the world won't matter.

Where does the ADA come into play?

Not every stressed employee has a disability. But some do.

When an employee's mental health condition rises to the level of a disability—and the employer knows or should know about it—the ADA's reasonable accommodation obligations are triggered. That doesn't require magic words. "I'm struggling with anxiety and need help managing my workload" can be enough to start the interactive process.

From there, the obligation is familiar: engage in good-faith dialogue and consider reasonable accommodations. That might include modified schedules, remote work, additional breaks, leave, or adjusted job duties.

Here's where many employers go wrong: they treat what looks like a performance problem as only a performance problem. An employee starts missing deadlines, disengages, gets a PIP—and no one stops to ask whether a medical condition might be in play. That's not just a missed opportunity. Depending on the circumstances, it can be a legal liability.

Ignoring the issue, or treating it purely as a conduct matter without exploring whether something deeper is going on, isn't a neutral choice. Once an employer knows or should know that a mental health condition may be affecting an employee's work, the obligation to engage has begun.

The bottom line

The mental health crisis in the workplace isn't going away. Employers who take it seriously—with real training, visible resources, flexible structures, and cultures where people feel safe enough to speak up—will have a meaningful advantage in retaining the people they've worked hard to hire.

Because if you don't create a workplace where people can cope, they'll find one where they can.

     

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Unless, that is, sexual harassment is in the case.

An Ohio appellate court just made that crystal clear in Hansbrough v. Marshall Dennehey.

The employer did what employers do. It pointed to a signed arbitration agreement and moved to compel arbitration of the employee's claims.

That used to be a strong move. Then Congress passed the Ending Forced Arbitration of Sexual Assault and Sexual Harassment Act. That changed everything.

The question in Hansbrough wasn't whether the plaintiff would ultimately prove harassment. It was much earlier in the case: did the complaint plausibly allege sexual harassment occurring after March 3, 2022 (the EFAA's effective date)? The court said yes.

And under Ohio's notice-pleading standard, that was enough. Once the plaintiff cleared that low bar, the EFAA applied. And once the EFAA applied, the arbitration agreement could not be enforced—not just for the harassment claim, but for the entire case.

Read that again. Not just the harassment count. The entire case.

That's the real takeaway. This wasn't a merits decision. It was a procedural one. But procedural doesn't mean unimportant. It means the fight over where the case gets decided—court versus arbitration—may now turn on how a complaint is drafted.

The court didn't need to reach a harder question—whether post-EFAA retaliation tied to pre-EFAA harassment would independently trigger the statute. The plaintiff's allegations of post-EFAA harassment made that unnecessary.

But don't miss what this means in practice. Sexual harassment claims rarely travel alone. They come bundled with retaliation, discrimination, and other statutory claims. And under the EFAA, one viable harassment allegation may keep that entire bundle in court.

Arbitration agreements no longer operate as universal shields.

If your risk analysis assumes you can push most employment disputes behind closed doors, you need to revisit that assumption. In fact, one well-pleaded harassment claim may be all it takes to blow up arbitration entirely.

     

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