Last Friday in Covent Garden, a street performer pulled me into his act. "Where are you from? ". "America. ". The boos came right on cue. Not playful. Not ironic. Real boos. Not from everyone—but from enough to feel it. And yes, I knew they were ...
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WIRTW #793: the 'Waterloo Sunset' edition

Last Friday in Covent Garden, a street performer pulled me into his act.

"Where are you from?"
"America."

The boos came right on cue. Not playful. Not ironic. Real boos. Not from everyone—but from enough to feel it.

And yes, I knew they were coming. Anyone paying attention to how the world currently sees the U.S. knows. Still, hearing it live hits differently. It stings. Because I hate being cast as the villain—especially when I oppose with every fiber of my being everything that America has become since January 20, 2025.

But in that moment, none of that mattered. I wasn't me. I was "America."

That's the point.

The rest of the world isn't parsing our politics the way we do. They're not distinguishing between voters and non-voters, between MAGA and anti-MAGA. They see the country. Full stop.

The passport does the talking—and right now, it's not saying anything flattering.

To be clear, that moment wasn't my overall experience. Over six days in London, everyone we met was warm, welcoming, and eager to talk. And when the conversation turned to U.S. politics, the reaction was universal: They hate Trump. Not politely. Not abstractly. Viscerally.

But here's the uncomfortable truth: even when people separate you from the politics in conversation, the reputation still sticks at a distance. Countries are judged by what their governments do. Period.

And when a nation elects leaders who attack democratic norms, cozy up to authoritarians, alienate allies, and uproot the world order without thought or care for the global consequences, the world doesn't carve out exceptions for those who voted the other way.

They just see the country. Which means we carry it—all of us.

That's frustrating. It's unfair. It's also reality.

For a long time, Americans treated politics as a domestic sport. Something that affected us internally. Not anymore. The damage is global. And it shows up in small, uncomfortable moments—like a crowd booing when you say where you're from.

That moment wasn't about me. It couldn't have been. They didn't know me. All they knew was that I'm American—and that alone was enough, because their reaction was about what "America" currently represents.

Reputations aren't permanent. They're earned. They can be lost. And, with hard work, they can be regained. If we don't like how the world sees us right now, there's only one way to change it. We don't get to shrug it off. We don't get to pretend it's not our problem. It is our problem. And it's time we started fixing it.

* * *

To hear a full recap of our Spring Break (or Spreak, as my daughter calls it) adventure in London, tune into this week's episode of The Norah and Dad Show, available via Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, Amazon Music, Overcast, your browser, and everywhere else you get your podcasts.


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




Target, Boycotts, and Diversity — via The Chief Organizer Blog


Our Favorite Management Tips on Leading with AI and AI and the Entry-Level Job — via Harvard Business Review






Lawsuits aren't lottery tickets. Or at least they shouldn't be.

Too often, plaintiffs' lawyers file thin, borderline frivolous employment claims hoping for a quick nuisance-value settlement. The math is simple: it's cheaper for an employer to pay a few thousand dollars to make a case disappear than to spend tens (or hundreds) of thousands defending it.

And yes, sometimes that works. The business case often just makes sense for businesses.

But not always. Plenty of employers—especially those who believe they've done nothing wrong—will dig in and fight. Hard.

That's where the real disservice to the employee begins.

Even on a contingency fee ("you don’t pay unless you win"), litigation isn't free. Filing fees. Deposition transcripts. Expert costs. E-discovery. Those expenses add up, and they don't magically disappear just because the claim is weak. And if the employer wins on summary judgment or at trial, it can seek to recover its costs from the plaintiff—along with attorneys' fees where a statute or agreement allows.

Moreover, a lawsuit can poke a sleeping bear. An employer that might have shrugged and moved on suddenly has a reason to scrutinize everything—including an unemployment claim. If the employer contests and wins, the employee may be on the hook to repay benefits already received. For a low-wage worker living paycheck to paycheck, that clawback can be financially devastating.

All for a case that never had real merit to begin with.

Everyone deserves their day in court. But a day in court means something. It's not a bargaining chip. It's not a shakedown dressed up in legal briefs. When lawyers file cases they know are weak, it's extortion with a filing stamp on it.

So, to business owners: stop reflexively writing the nuisance check. When you settle a bad case, you don't just pay to make one problem go away—you advertise that the strategy works. Fight the ones that deserve to be fought. Make the calculus harder.

Because the best way to discourage this practice is to make sure the math stops working.

5 steps for an employer to win an off-the-clock overtime claim

Jerry Merritt, an agency manager for the Texas Farm Bureau, claimed 816 hours of unpaid overtime. Even assuming he had been misclassified as an independent contractor, he still lost.

Here's why.

Merritt ran his role with near-total autonomy: He set his own schedule. He chose how much to work or not work. He didn't track or report hours because the company paid him on a commission (over $500k/year).

Even assuming he was an employee entitled to overtime, he still had to prove one thing:

👉 His employer knew—or should have known—he was working overtime.

A jury said no. The 5th Circuit agreed.

The key rule upon which the court relied: No knowledge = no overtime liability.

Merritt argued: "You let me work as much as I wanted."
Not enough. Flexibility ≠ knowledge.

He argued: "You didn't track my time."
Still not enough. Lack of records ≠ constructive knowledge.

He argued: "I didn't have to tell you when I was working."
Wrong. How else was the employer to know he was working.

Step back and look at the result:
Misclassification (assumed)
Significant overtime
No time records
…and the employer still wins. Because it lacked actual or constructive knowledge.

Before anyone gets the wrong idea, this case is not a green light to ignore timekeeping. It's a reminder of where the real risk lives. Most employers don't lose overtime cases because they lacked knowledge. They lose because the facts show they should have had it. That's the difference between winning and writing a check.

If you want to stay on the right side of that line, here are a few practical takeaways:

First, make it crystal clear that employees must report all time worked. Not some. Not "approved" time. All of it.

Second, train your supervisors and managers. If they see employees working late or through lunch, responding to emails after hours, or grinding through weekends, they can't just shrug and move on. That's how "we didn't know" turns into "you should have known."

Third, pay for the time that gets reported—even if it violates policy. You can discipline the violation. You can't withhold wages.

Fourth, don't build a culture that quietly discourages overtime reporting. Courts see right through that.

Fifth, and finally, be careful with autonomy. It helped this employer because the independence was real. No oversight, no visibility, no reason to track hours. But autonomy won't save you if it's just a convenient way to avoid looking too closely.

You're responsible for what you know. You're also responsible for what you should know. But you're not automatically responsible for what an employee chooses to do—on their own, without telling you, and without giving you any reason to suspect it's happening. That distinction made all the difference here.

Bribery scandals don't start with bad employees; they start with bad culture

When a bribery scandal hits a company, the corporate response is almost always the same: These were bad employees acting on their own.

Maybe. But usually not.

Consider the current mess involving Southern Glazer's Wine & Spirits, the largest alcohol distributor in the United States. 

Federal prosecutors have charged several of its former executives in a long-running scheme to bribe a grocery-chain wine buyer in exchange for favorable product placement in stores. The alleged perks weren't subtle: prepaid gift cards, electronics, luxury travel, golf trips, and even cash. According to prosecutors, some of the payments were disguised in company records as "seminars" or marketing expenses.

The alleged conduct stretched from 2016 through 2024 and involved high-level sales leadership—vice presidents and sales directors—not just a rogue account rep.

That's not a coincidence.

When misconduct runs for years and involves multiple managers, the issue isn't just the employees. It's the environment they were operating in.

Sales cultures are especially vulnerable to this dynamic. When revenue and shelf space are the only metrics that matter, employees quickly learn what really counts—and what doesn't. If leadership celebrates results without asking too many questions about how those results were achieved, the message becomes clear: win first, worry about the rules later.

And once that message takes root, the slope gets slippery fast.

First it's bending the rules.
Then it's "creative" expense reports.
Then it's something that starts to look a lot like bribery.

Quality companies understand this risk. They don't give star salespeople or executives a pass on bad behavior just because they're hitting their numbers. In fact, the higher someone climbs in the organization, the higher the standard should be.

To be clear, the executives charged in the Southern Glazer's case are presumed innocent. The allegations still need to be proven in court. But the facts prosecutors describe—multi-year conduct, falsified records, multiple participants—are the kind of allegations that rarely happen in a vacuum.

Companies don't get bribery scandals because one salesperson wakes up and decides to break the law.

They get them because culture quietly signals that results matter more than integrity.

Compliance policies don't define a company's culture.

What leadership rewards—and ignores—does.

If your sales team believes that hitting the number will get them praised no matter how they do it, you've already planted the seeds of your next compliance crisis.

By the time the indictment arrives, the problem didn't just start. It's been fermenting for years.

WIRTW #792: the 'CBC' edition

Happy staff brew better beer.

It's obvious when you think about it.

A team that feels respected, valued, and heard shows up differently. They care more. They collaborate better. They solve problems faster. And yes—the beer, the taproom experience, and the business all benefit.

Yet for an industry built on passion, craft, and community, too many breweries still struggle with workplace culture.

Long hours. Thin margins. High stress. High turnover.

It's easy to focus all your energy on recipes, distribution, and survival while overlooking the single most important ingredient in your brewery: your people.

And when that happens, the consequences show up fast—burnout, disengagement, toxic dynamics, and constant turnover.

Replacing an employee isn’t cheap. Depending on the role, it can cost up to 50% of that employee's annual salary to recruit, hire, and train someone new. In breweries—where production and taproom roles already see high turnover—that cost adds up quickly.

But here's the good news: building a great workplace culture doesn't require a massive budget or a full-time HR department.

It requires intention.

That’s exactly what I'll be talking about at the Craft Brewers Conference this April in Philly.

Happy Staff, Better Craft: Brewing a Better Workplace
📅 Wednesday, April 22
⏰ 10:15–11:15 AM
📍 Room 201-AB

In this session, we'll dig into the connection between employee engagement and brewery success—and why culture isn't just a feel-good concept, but a real business strategy.

We’ll talk about:
  • Why happy employees make better beer (and better customer experiences)
  • How better communication can prevent most workplace conflicts before they start
  • Simple, low-cost ways to recognize and reward your team
  • How to design brewing and taproom jobs people actually want to stay in
  • What leadership looks like when you lead like a worker instead of a boss

My goal isn't theory. It's practical tools.

The brewing industry is full of passionate people who love what they do. But passion alone isn't a workplace strategy. If breweries want to thrive long term, they have to invest in the people who make the beer, pour the pints, and represent the brand every day.

Great breweries don't just brew great beer.

They build great workplaces.

If you're heading to CBC this year, come join me. I'd love to see you there—and talk about how happier teams can help build stronger breweries.


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

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