I was twenty-two and working my first office job when a colleague I admired handed in her notice. She was smart, capable, and had been with the company for six years. I assumed she’d been headhunted for a better role, but when I asked her why she was leaving, she said something I’ve never forgotten: “It’s not the money. It’s the way I feel invisible here. I’ve told my manager three times that I want more development opportunities, and every time, he nods and nothing changes.” She wasn’t angry. She was exhausted. And her quiet, matter-of-fact departure taught me more about HRM than any textbook ever could. I realised that retention isn’t about ping-pong tables and free fruit; it’s about whether people feel heard, valued, and able to grow. That conversation planted a seed that grew into a fascination with the human side of work — and eventually, into my dissertation.
When I started thinking about a specific research question, I knew I wanted to explore something about employee voice and retention. But the field of HRM is vast: recruitment, training, performance management, diversity and inclusion, wellbeing, the gig economy, the impact of AI on HR practices. I needed to narrow my focus. I began by looking at what other students had already investigated. I found a collection of human resource management HRM dissertation topics that helped me map the terrain. Some projects examined the link between flexible working and employee engagement, others explored how performance appraisal systems affect motivation, and a few investigated the role of HR analytics in predicting turnover. That breadth gave me the confidence to settle on a question that felt both personal and timely: how does the quality of the employee–manager relationship influence the decision to stay or leave, and what role does regular, meaningful feedback play in that dynamic?
Once I had my direction, I designed a qualitative study. I interviewed people who had recently left jobs voluntarily, as well as managers who had lost team members. The stories were rich with emotion and often painfully familiar. One participant told me she had stayed in a job for two years longer than she should have because her manager was the only person who ever asked how she was really doing. Another described leaving a well-paid role after six months because his supervisor never spoke to him beyond assigning tasks. The data pointed toward a simple but powerful conclusion: pay and perks matter, but the relationship with one’s direct manager is the single most significant factor in retention. My dissertation argued that organisations need to invest not just in leadership training but in creating cultures where feedback is continuous, two-way, and genuinely acted upon. The exit interview that had started my journey years earlier was, I discovered, often too little and far too late.
Writing that dissertation didn’t make me an expert on employee retention. But it gave me a framework for understanding why people leave — and what might make them stay. If you’re considering an HRM dissertation, I’d encourage you to start with a moment that stuck with you: a colleague who left, a manager who inspired loyalty, a workplace practice that seemed unfair. The best research questions often grow from the quiet dramas that unfold in offices, factories, and shop floors every day. Then explore what other students have already done, and let their work guide you toward a question that feels genuinely worth answering.