Something changed in HR last year. The cases that used to come once, maybe twice a year are showing up monthly. Employees are walking into conversations with printed policies, AI-generated complaint language, and a sharper read on their own rights than most HR teams are ready for. Words like harassment and retaliation get used more freely, sometimes accurately, sometimes not. And every time those words appear, HR has to freeze, lock it down, and run the process.
Susanne Kleveros, the founder of Don't Tell HR, sees this every week. She spent fourteen years inside startups and corporates across the US and internationally before going full-time on consulting three years ago. Her work sits in the corner of HR that carries the most risk and requires the most judgment: employee relations, investigations, and terminations. For most of her career, even a busy year meant one or two major investigations. Last year broke that pattern. It didn't slow down in 2026.
In January 2026, a Los Angeles jury awarded five former employees $52 million in a whistleblower retaliation case. The case took six years to get to verdict. Attorney's fees have not yet been added to that number. And every HR leader should sit with that timeline for a second: six years of operational cost, leadership attention, discovery, depositions, and reputation damage before a dollar of the final award showed up.
"This is what companies miss a lot," Kleveros said. "You don't even think about the operational cost this company had before it went into litigation. It's really hard to put this on a budget line item."
It's also the number that exposes how badly most companies underfund employee relations. Kleveros sees leaders who treat ER as a function you can staff with junior HR or fold into an HRBP's side responsibilities. The logic is simple. Most HR pros will go their entire careers without handling a single major investigation, so why build a team around something that might never happen. The $52 million verdict is the answer.
Kleveros is direct about what's driving the spike: AI gave employees a louder voice and faster access to language they didn't have before. Most of the time, that's a good thing. HR wants to know what isn't working before it becomes a claim. But there's a cost. Employees now throw around flag words without fully understanding what would legally qualify as harassment or retaliation. The moment those words appear, HR has to investigate. That process eats days.
"Now we have two camps that are in defensive mode," Kleveros said. "And it's so hard to come out of that and try to meet and have a collaborative communication piece."
She's not interested in training HR to push back on employees. She wants to train employees to prompt AI better. Instead of asking AI to draft a complaint, ask it how to approach the conversation with HR in a way that actually moves the situation forward. Both camps locked in defensive mode is never a good outcome.
The single strongest idea in the conversation might be this: silence after a termination is not a sign things went well. It's usually the sign a lawyer is coming.
"Silence escalates emotion," Kleveros said. "If you're an employee that leaves feeling like they were shut down, they were confused, they were disrespected, that vacuum in them gets filled very quickly and often by a lawyer."
She tracks this. Of every termination case she's handled where the former employee went silent, all but one turned into a demand letter or a lawyer. The one exception had simply forgotten to open the separation agreement email.
The counterintuitive takeaway is that HR should leave room for a negotiation window after a termination. Not because everything should be negotiable. Because a structured, early dialogue lowers the temperature, gives the company information it wouldn't otherwise have, and signals that the person was seen and heard in the hardest moment of their professional life. A thin severance offer produces the opposite signal. It reads like the company is trying to get out of this cheaply. That's the exact invitation for the escalation everyone was trying to avoid.
Kleveros reframes terminations entirely. They're not legal events. They're change management events.
"Employees are ambassadors for the company," she said. "It starts when they first hit submit on the resume, and it continues after they leave. They're going to remember how they were treated, whether the communication was clear, whether they felt respected, or whether the company showed integrity when it mattered most. And they talk."
The remaining team matters just as much. People who stayed have survival guilt, incomplete information, and a tendency to fill gaps with their own ideas. If leadership walks out of the room and assumes the conversation is done, the gap gets filled with something less accurate and less flattering.
The tactical advice is short and non-negotiable. Script it. Don't improvise, even if you've done it a hundred times. The Bill Walsh reference came up naturally in the conversation. Walsh was the 49ers coach who invented scripting the first fifteen plays of a game. Before him, coaches winged it after kickoff. Today the entire league scripts the first quarter. The point holds for HR. A plan doesn't make the moment less hard. It makes it less likely that the moment breaks you.
One of the most overlooked parts of an investigation or termination is what happens to the manager afterward. The person who had to deliver the news carries a huge emotional load, and nobody debriefs them. Some managers come out of these experiences quieter, more guarded, slower to trust. That's where bad managers come from. Not from malice. From unprocessed investigations.
Kleveros does a thirty-day check-in with managers after every termination or investigation she runs. Not about the case. About their trust level in their team. Is it the same as it was a month ago, or has something shifted. The answer often surprises them. New managers, she says, default to saying they're fine. Seasoned managers ask for the debrief, because they know what happens if they skip it.
This is also where vicarious trauma enters the picture. HR is not a therapy role, but HR people absorb an enormous amount of weight from the conversations they're in. Kleveros schedules walks after termination calls. She teaches her teams to do the same. Blocking thirty minutes to be outside after a hard conversation is not a productivity loss. It's how you stay usable for the next one.
One of Kleveros's sharpest pieces of advice has nothing to do with HR training. It's about borrowing sales training. Salespeople are trained to ask open-ended questions that keep people talking. That's exactly the skill required in investigations, in stay interviews, and in the conversation where an employee is trying to tell you something but hasn't found the words yet.
"The best learnings I've had in life didn't come from HR," she said. "They came from salespeople who were so good at asking the right questions that they got me to yeah. That's the competence I need when I'm doing investigations."
The practical version is simple: bring a sales coach in to train your HR team, or ask your sales leader to sit in on a few HR conversations and give notes.
Her closing advice was the most practical of the episode. Pick the last termination or investigation you handled. Sit down with it. Do a proper post-mortem. Look for the gaps you didn't see at the time. AI can help, as long as no confidential information goes into it. Note the learnings and bring them into the next one.
"You can never be 100% compliant," Kleveros said. "That's not just a saying I say. I keep hearing this from employment councils. They might not back you up if you ask, because why would they acknowledge it, but it's true. So do your best."
For HR leaders running more sensitive conversations than ever, that's the bar. Not perfection. A steady loop of learning, scripting, and post-mortems that makes each next conversation less likely to go silent.