The Rosenbaum Law Firm P.C. Blog

Every year brings incremental changes to retirement plans, but 2026 is different. This isn’t just about higher contribution limits. It’s about a fundamental shift in how catch-up contributions are taxed — one that will directly affect higher-income workers and quietly reshape retirement planning.

Start with the headline numbers. In 2026, the employee 401(k) contribution limit rises to $24,500. Catch-up contributions for those age 50 and older increase to $8,000, and participants ages 60 to 63 can still make a larger “special” catch-up of $11,250. On paper, that’s a win for retirement savers.

But here’s the catch — and it’s a big one.

If you earned more than $145,000 in the prior year, all catch-up contributions must be made on a Roth basis. No pre-tax option. No deferral of income taxes until retirement. That’s a significant departure from how higher earners have historically used catch-ups as part of their tax-planning strategy.

This change isn’t accidental. Shifting catch-up contributions to Roth means the government collects taxes now instead of later. For participants in their peak earning years, that can mean paying tax at a higher marginal rate than they might have faced in retirement.

That said, this isn’t automatically bad policy — just different policy.

Roth contributions grow tax-free, qualified withdrawals aren’t taxed, and Roth accounts aren’t subject to required minimum distributions. For some participants, especially those who expect higher taxes later or want flexibility in retirement income planning, this could actually be a long-term advantage.

The real risk is complacency.

Participants need to confirm whether their employer’s plan even offers a Roth option. If it doesn’t, higher-income employees may lose the ability to make catch-up contributions altogether. Plan sponsors need to understand that this is no longer a participant-level issue — it’s a plan-design and operational issue.

2026 isn’t just another compliance year. It’s the year retirement savings became more complicated — and more strategic.

If you’re not reviewing this now, you’re already late.

At some point, without much notice, 401kHelpCenter.com disappeared.

No announcement. No farewell post. No “we’re shutting down” explanation. One day it was there — the next day it wasn’t. And that’s a shame, because it was one of the best collectors of 401(k) content the industry ever had.

For years, 401kHelpCenter wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t trying to sell you a platform, a managed account, or a bundled solution. It did something far more valuable: it curated. It gathered articles, regulatory updates, commentary, and resources from across the retirement industry and put them in one place. It respected the idea that good information mattered, and that practitioners — plan sponsors, providers, and advisors — wanted access to it without marketing noise.

In an industry that now confuses content with branding and education with lead generation, 401kHelpCenter felt almost old-fashioned. It didn’t pretend to be the smartest voice in the room. It let everyone be heard.

Its disappearance says something uncomfortable about where we are as an industry. Content has become transactional. If it doesn’t convert, it doesn’t survive. If it doesn’t fit neatly into a funnel, it gets abandoned. The idea of maintaining a neutral, centralized library of retirement plan knowledge doesn’t generate enough ROI to justify the effort — even if it creates enormous value.

That’s the real loss.

401kHelpCenter wasn’t perfect, but it was useful. It helped newcomers learn the landscape and veterans keep up with it. It reminded us that the retirement industry is bigger than any one firm, platform, or personality.

When a site like that goes dark, knowledge doesn’t disappear — it fragments. It gets buried behind paywalls, gated downloads, and SEO-driven blog posts that say less and sell more.

That’s progress, I guess.

But it still feels like something important was lost.

When a retirement plan error surfaces, the first reaction is almost always the same: finger-pointing. The sponsor looks to the advisor. The advisor looks to the TPA. The TPA looks to the recordkeeper. And somewhere in the background, everyone is quietly hoping the problem just goes away.

It rarely does.

From a provider perspective, the most dangerous assumption is that responsibility will naturally land where it “belongs.” ERISA doesn’t work that way. Responsibility is determined by facts, conduct, and documentation—not by job titles or marketing labels.

Late deposits, eligibility failures, forfeiture misapplications, and missed amendments usually don’t happen because one party acted maliciously. They happen because everyone assumed someone else was handling it. Providers often discover too late that they were copied on enough emails, answered enough questions, or “helped out” just enough to be pulled into the mess.

What sponsors want is clarity. What providers need are boundaries. Engagement agreements, service matrices, and onboarding documentation matter far more than most providers admit. Courts and regulators look at what you actually did, not what your contract said you didn’t do.

The uncomfortable truth is that providers who pride themselves on being “full service” often create their own exposure. Helping is fine. Owning the problem—intentionally or not—is not.

Providers who survive these situations best aren’t the loudest defenders. They’re the ones who can calmly point to contemporaneous documentation and say, “Here’s what we did—and here’s what we didn’t.”

Most plan sponsors genuinely want to do the right thing. They offer a retirement plan because they care about employees, want to help people save, and believe they are acting responsibly. That instinct is admirable—but under ERISA, it is not a defense.

Fiduciary responsibility is not measured by intent. It is measured by process.

Courts and regulators don’t ask whether an employer meant well. They ask whether the sponsor followed the plan document, monitored providers, corrected errors, and made informed decisions based on available information. A sponsor can act in complete good faith and still violate fiduciary duties by failing to follow through on those obligations.

This disconnect surprises many employers. They remember approving improvements, responding to employee questions, and trusting experienced providers. What they don’t always realize is that ERISA looks backward and objectively. Good intentions don’t excuse missed deposits. Caring about employees doesn’t cure an eligibility failure. Trusting a provider doesn’t eliminate the duty to monitor.

That doesn’t mean sponsors need to become paranoid or adversarial. It means they need to be disciplined.

Strong fiduciary practices are not complicated, but they are deliberate. Documenting decisions. Asking follow-up questions. Keeping meeting notes. Confirming who is responsible for what. Addressing problems when they first appear instead of hoping they resolve themselves.

Ironically, the sponsors who are best protected are often the ones who slow down. They don’t rush decisions to appear decisive. They don’t accept verbal assurances without written confirmation. They treat the retirement plan as an ongoing governance responsibility—not a benefit that runs itself.

Being a good employer matters. It just isn’t enough.

Good employers build trust with employees. Good fiduciaries build a record that survives scrutiny.

The strongest plan sponsors understand they must do both.

Providers often believe that being helpful will protect them if something goes wrong. It feels intuitive: strong relationships, responsive service, and goodwill should count for something.

In ERISA litigation, they usually don’t.

Courts don’t evaluate intent, tone, or effort. They evaluate actions, authority, and outcomes. A provider can be attentive, kind, and well-liked—and still end up in trouble if their conduct crossed a fiduciary or operational line.

What matters is not whether you tried to help, but whether you exercised discretion, gave advice, or assumed responsibility. A friendly phone call doesn’t outweigh a poorly documented decision. Years of good service don’t erase a single compliance failure.

This disconnect surprises many providers. They remember the late nights, the extra help, and the problem-solving. Plaintiffs’ lawyers remember emails, processes, and missed safeguards.

The lesson isn’t to stop providing good service. It’s to stop assuming good service is a defense. Documentation, role clarity, and process discipline matter more than goodwill when things turn adversarial.

Providers who understand this early don’t become cynical—they become careful. They serve clients well while protecting themselves through clear communication and written records.

Good service builds relationships. Good documentation survives litigation.

There is no denying it: sponsors are tired. SECURE 2.0 arrived in waves, and many employers are overwhelmed by rules that seem half-finished, delayed, or constantly “to be determined.”

That fatigue is understandable. For providers, though, it’s dangerous.

The temptation is to reassure sponsors with phrases like “we’ll deal with that later” or “the IRS will clarify.” Unfortunately, fatigue does not excuse noncompliance, and regulators are not sympathetic to exhaustion. Catch-up contribution changes, Roth requirements, and age-based rules aren’t theoretical—they’re operational realities that are already affecting payroll systems and plan administration.

Providers who oversimplify SECURE 2.0 to keep sponsors calm may be setting themselves up for future blame. When something goes wrong in 2026 or beyond, the question won’t be how confusing the rules were. It will be what advice was given and whether risks were clearly explained.

The better approach is honesty. Sponsors don’t need perfection—they need transparency. Telling a client, “This area is unsettled, and here are the risks of waiting,” is far safer than projecting confidence that isn’t warranted.

Providers add real value by managing expectations, not eliminating anxiety. Sometimes the most responsible answer is, “This is messy, and here’s how we’re going to navigate it together.”

That may not feel like salesmanship. It is, however, good risk management.

Most providers don’t stumble into fiduciary exposure intentionally. They do it by trying to be helpful.

Answering “just one more question.” Suggesting a workaround. Coordinating between payroll and HR. None of this feels like fiduciary conduct in the moment. Over time, though, it adds up.

ERISA doesn’t care whether you meant to act as a fiduciary. It cares whether you exercised discretion or influence over plan decisions. The line between education and advice is thinner than many providers realize, especially with smaller plans that lean heavily on outside help.

This is the provider’s blind spot. The more knowledgeable and responsive you are, the easier it becomes for a sponsor to rely on you. Reliance is flattering—but it can also be risky.

The solution isn’t disengagement. It’s structure. Providers should define how they help, how advice is framed, and where decisions clearly remain with the sponsor. Written follow-ups, disclaimers, and consistent messaging are not bureaucratic obstacles—they are protective tools.

Ironically, the providers who help the most effectively are often the ones who say “no” the most clearly. They know where their role ends, and they communicate that boundary early.

Helping is good. Helping without limits is not.

Plan sponsors are often surprised to learn that when their advisor, TPA, and recordkeeper disagree, the conflict doesn’t protect the plan sponsor—it exposes them.

ERISA places fiduciary responsibility squarely on the employer. That means if one provider says something is fine and another raises concerns, ignoring the issue or picking the most convenient answer can create real risk. Regulators and courts don’t care which provider was “supposed” to handle the issue. They care whether the sponsor acted prudently.

This shows up most often with operational failures: late deposits, missed eligibility, incorrect matches, or forfeiture mistakes. Each provider may see only part of the problem, but the sponsor owns the whole picture.

The smartest move isn’t to referee arguments. It’s to document them. Ask providers to put their positions in writing, evaluate the risks, and make a reasoned decision. Silence or informal assurances are rarely defensible after the fact.

Sponsors who treat provider disagreement as a warning sign—rather than a nuisance—are usually the ones who avoid bigger problems later.

Today’s industry news isn’t just another personnel announcement. When Fred Reish, a lawyer whose name has been synonymous with ERISA’s most complex fiduciary and regulatory issues for decades, changes teams, the whole retirement plan ecosystem should take notice.

Reish isn’t just experienced, he’s one of the very few people whose work has genuinely shaped how practitioners, providers, and plan sponsors think about fiduciary risk, prohibited transactions, and plan design. For decades he’s been in the trenches, advising plan sponsors, financial institutions, and fiduciaries on thorny problems most providers never see until it’s too late.

Now he’s joining Prime Capital Financial’s retirement practice to lead their fiduciary and ERISA work. That’s notable for two reasons:

1. Talent attracts scrutiny—and improvement. When someone with Reish’s depth of technical firepower moves, it often signals that the receiving organization is serious about strengthening its compliance and governance muscle, not just its brand. This is rarely “window dressing.” It’s substantive.

2. Sponsors should care about who shapes advice. Plan sponsors don’t buy lawyers; they buy confidence that their advisors know the difference between good intentions and defensible action. Providers aligned with true subject-matter experts can help sponsors navigate ambiguity in ways that aren’t just comforting, but defensible under scrutiny.

This isn’t about headlines. It’s about practical impact—on governance models, on how fiduciary risk is communicated, and on how sponsors and providers think about compliance as a process, not a product.

So yes, Fred Reish’s move is “landmark.” But more importantly, it’s a reminder: Experience doesn’t just matter in theory—its absence shows up in audits, examinations, and litigation.

Providers who want to thrive in the next decade aren’t just hiring bodies. They’re investing in minds that can explain risk before it becomes a problem.

Sponsors should be paying attention. Because when the landscape shifts at the expert level, it usually arrives at the compliance desk next.

Every retirement plan provider now talks about AI, personalization, and “smart” tools. Plan sponsors should listen — but they shouldn’t be dazzled.

Technology does not replace fiduciary responsibility. It magnifies it.

When a participant website nudges behavior, projects retirement income, or offers automated guidance, those features don’t exist in a vacuum. They are influencing participant decisions. That means sponsors need to understand what’s behind the curtain: the assumptions being used, the data sources, and whether any conflicts are embedded in the design.

Too often, technology is treated as a black box. The vendor built it. The recordkeeper maintains it. The sponsor just “offers” it. That mindset is dangerous. If a tool is part of how participants engage with the plan, it’s part of the plan’s fiduciary ecosystem — whether vendors want to admit it or not.

The right question isn’t “Is this innovative?” It’s “Is this prudent?”

Good technology supports fiduciary decision-making by simplifying choices, improving clarity, and encouraging better behavior. Bad technology creates false confidence and obscures responsibility. And when something goes wrong, “the system did it” has never been an effective fiduciary defense.

Plan sponsors don’t need to become software engineers. But they do need transparency, documentation, and explanations they can stand behind. If a provider can’t clearly explain how a tool works, why it’s appropriate, and how it helps participants make better decisions, that should be a red flag.

In the end, technology doesn’t protect fiduciaries. Thoughtful oversight does.