HD Supply Lawsuit: Federal Complaint Says ‘Big Deal’ Forklift Performer’s Life Changed After Workplace Injury
In the federal complaint now pending in U.S. District Court, Quinton J. Hall is not introduced as a disgruntled former employee or a marginal worker looking for a payday. He is described as the opposite: an ambitious, high-output forklift operator who earned his way from a temporary agency assignment into permanent employment at HD Supply through performance, long hours, and visible buy-in to the culture of the warehouse.
The complaint depicts a trajectory familiar to distribution centers across America—except for what it says happened next.
Hall’s work story, as pleaded, starts with the grind: coming in as a temp, learning the building’s pace, and absorbing the unspoken reality that the surest path to stability is to be undeniable. The filing says he did exactly that. He worked extended shifts. He kept productivity high. He showed up consistently enough—and produced enough—that the company converted him to a permanent employee.
In the warehouse world, the complaint suggests, numbers are the language that matters. And Hall, it alleges, spoke that language fluently.
According to the complaint, Hall received “Big Deal” recognition for productivity—internal praise that, in that setting, functions like a scoreboard. It is a sign not just of output, but of trust: that a worker can be placed in fast lanes, counted on in busy hours, and relied upon when the building is trying to hit its goals. The complaint frames those awards as evidence that Hall wasn’t merely employed—he was valued.
But the pleading goes further than metrics. It paints a picture of a worker who didn’t just do the job; he belonged to the job.
In the filing’s account, Hall participated in workplace basketball activities that were part of the facility’s internal culture—events that aren’t about paychecks, but about camaraderie: a three-point contest, a 3-on-3 tournament, the kind of morale-building moments companies often point to when they talk about team identity. Those details matter because they do something many legal filings do not: they locate a person inside the story, not just a plaintiff inside a case.
Then comes the injury.
The complaint describes a back injury tied to a workplace incident and alleges that the consequences did not stop at physical pain or medical limitations. It argues the injury reached into the part of Hall’s life where joy used to live—basketball—and pulled it out.
Where the earlier paragraphs revolve around production and recognition, the later ones focus on something harder to quantify: loss of enjoyment. The complaint alleges that after the injury, Hall has not been able to participate in basketball activity the way he once did, including the workplace competitions that had become part of his routine and community. The filing frames that shift as a marker of damage that extends beyond wages—an everyday reminder of a “before” and “after.”
It’s a specific type of harm that juries often understand immediately: not just the inability to work the same way, but the inability to live the same way.
The complaint’s narrative arc is built to contrast two versions of the same person. In one, Hall is a standout performer who climbs from temp status to permanent employment, earns productivity recognition, and shows up as more than a badge number—someone participating in the culture, competing, laughing, moving freely. In the other, the complaint says, a back injury changes what his body can do, and what his life can include.
The pleading does not ask the public to treat its account as proven fact; allegations in a complaint are claims, not findings. But it does present a coherent story grounded in workplace benchmarks—conversion from temp to permanent, productivity recognition, documented involvement in company activities—and then ties those benchmarks to a damage theory that is both legal and human: that what was taken wasn’t only income, but the normal pleasures that made the work—and the life around it—feel worth it.
That is the emotional core the complaint returns to: a worker who alleges he earned his place, then lost pieces of himself after the injury—pieces as ordinary, and as sacred, as the ability to run the floor, take a shot, and feel like his body still belonged to him.
