In most workplaces, a boss wears many hats. A manager gives orders, offers guidance, and, whether intentionally or not, often becomes an educator as well. That educational role is especially visible when employees face complex topics they were never formally taught, such as retirement planning and personal finance.

Nearly a decade ago, Eryn Schultz was working as a supervisor at H-E-B, one of the largest grocery chains in Texas. At the time, several hourly employees approached her with questions about the company’s 401(k) retirement plan. Schultz did not see this as a burden. On the contrary, she welcomed the opportunity to help. She had recently earned a Master of Business Administration degree and believed that understanding financial systems was a skill that should be shared, not hoarded.

As she dug deeper into the details of the plan, however, she became increasingly uneasy. The company offered a generous employer match, but the formula behind it was complicated. Many hourly workers struggled to understand how valuable the benefit actually was. Educational materials were limited, and Spanish-language resources were scarce, despite Spanish being the first language for many employees. On top of that, the mutual funds available in the plan carried fees that Schultz felt were unreasonably high, especially for a company employing more than 165,000 people.

Schultz raised these concerns with the individuals responsible for overseeing the retirement plan. The response she received was discouraging. From her perspective, decision-makers seemed unconvinced that the issues she identified were serious problems. About a year later, after transitioning into a leadership role overseeing perishable goods, she decided to leave the company. Retail work came with long, demanding hours, and her frustration with the 401(k) plan only added to the strain.

Two years passed, but her dissatisfaction did not fade. She remained troubled not only by the structure of the H-E-B retirement plan, but also by what she saw as a broader lack of financial literacy among working Americans. Then she learned about a class-action lawsuit filed by H-E-B employees, alleging problems with the company’s 401(k) plan.

The decision of whether to join the lawsuit was not an easy one. Her parents advised against it. A lawyer friend urged her to think carefully about the professional consequences of being associated with a legal case that might fail. Suing an employer, even a former one, is rarely seen as a smart career move.

Despite the warnings, Schultz chose to participate. Even now, she becomes emotional when explaining her motivation. Many H-E-B employees, she recalled, earned around $30,000 a year. Some relied on inexpensive processed meals because fresh produce was simply too costly. To those workers, even a modest settlement of $5,000 could make a profound difference in their lives.

At the time, Schultz was 39 years old and attending a personal finance conference in San Antonio. She remembers thinking that she had options others did not. She did not depend on the industry for her livelihood. If someone like her was unwilling to step forward, who would?

Lawsuits over 401(k) plans are not new. Roughly two decades ago, attorneys began challenging employers, arguing that excessive fees and poor investment options violated the fiduciary duty companies owe to their employees. Employers are legally required to act in workers’ best interests when managing retirement plans.

Some of those lawsuits succeeded. Perhaps more importantly, they sent a clear signal to corporations. Employers and their advisers became more cautious, scrutinizing fund choices and paying closer attention to costs. The threat of litigation changed behavior across the industry.

It remains unclear how much H-E-B adjusted its practices in response to this broader trend. The company declined to be interviewed about the lawsuit. In a written statement, a spokesperson emphasized that H-E-B views itself as a people-first organization and is committed to providing strong benefits, including retirement plans designed to help employees build secure financial futures. The company has stated that it will continue to defend itself against claims it believes are unfounded.

The lawsuit itself, filed in 2019, has moved slowly. According to the federal judge overseeing the case, complex financial litigation often takes years to resolve. Court workloads in parts of Texas have also been stretched thin due to immigration-related cases, further contributing to delays.

At the center of the dispute is a retirement plan structure that many experts find unusual. Unlike most modern 401(k) plans, H-E-B’s plan does not offer target-date funds. These funds automatically adjust their investment mix over time, becoming more conservative as participants approach retirement age. Today, they are a standard feature in the vast majority of employer-sponsored retirement plans.

Instead, the H-E-B plan relies heavily on actively managed funds with varying risk levels. These funds include not only stocks and bonds, but also alternative investments such as private equity. Some even involve hedge fund strategies. Certain hedge fund investments are specifically cited in the lawsuit.

Experienced retirement-plan attorneys have described this lineup as highly unconventional. The plaintiffs argue that the plan’s fees, performance, and overall structure failed to serve employees’ best interests.

During her time at H-E-B, Schultz occasionally gave informal presentations to coworkers explaining how the 401(k) plan worked. Eventually, senior leaders asked her to stop. They were concerned that her efforts could be interpreted as providing investment advice. After that, she limited herself to answering direct questions with factual information only.

Still, her desire to educate people about money never disappeared. A former classmate from business school, aware of her interest, invited her to give a personal finance talk to a group of students. The audience turned out to be from Harvard University.

Despite the school’s prestigious reputation, Schultz was struck by how unprepared many students were when it came to managing money. After the session, one attendee quietly confessed to carrying a significant amount of hidden credit card debt. Others were confused about the differences between traditional pre-tax 401(k) accounts and post-tax Roth accounts, questions Schultz had heard countless times from grocery store employees.

When the pandemic arrived, Schultz shifted her talks to online platforms. She later relocated to Austin, Texas. Word spread quickly. Demand grew, and she began charging for her classes. Eventually, people asked her to become their personal financial adviser. To do so properly, she earned the Certified Financial Planner designation and agreed.

Schultz is fully aware that her involvement in the lawsuit has become part of her public identity. Challenging high fees and advocating for fiduciary responsibility is now closely tied to her professional brand. That raises an obvious question: how does she price her own services?

Her answer surprises some people. She charges $400 per hour.

At first glance, that figure may seem steep. Yet it aligns with what many attorneys bill and what some therapists charge for less than an hour of time. Schultz deals with both technical issues like tax law and deeply personal matters involving emotions, often within the same session. Importantly, she operates as a fiduciary, committing to act solely in her clients’ best interests and refusing commissions from investment companies.

Her hourly pricing model is deliberate. Like many younger advisers, Schultz is skeptical of the industry’s traditional approach of charging a percentage of assets under management. That model often excludes people who need advice the most. Many advisers will not work with clients unless they have at least $500,000, or even $1 million, to invest. Professionals burdened with student loan debt or entrepreneurs with limited liquidity are frequently turned away.

Schultz has built a different kind of practice. She works with around 70 clients, some of whom only need a few hours of guidance each year. She continues to offer seminars as well, which account for roughly a quarter of her time and income.

Whether one views Schultz as a persistent complainer or a quiet hero may ultimately depend on the outcome of the lawsuit. A judge will eventually make that determination from a legal standpoint.

In the meantime, Schultz continues to do what she has always done: coach, teach, and empower people to understand their finances. If her former employer ever invited her back to educate employees, the sessions would likely be standing-room only. For many workers, that kind of knowledge can be just as valuable as any paycheck.