How one colleague's failure to do the right thing became the benchmark for the four who followed—and the damage they left in their wake.

You cannot be, I know, nor do I wish to see you, an inactive spectator. . . . We have too many high sounding words, and too few actions that correspond with them.  ― Abigail Adams (October 16, 1774)

April 10, 2014

As I am a connoisseur of silver linings, I have made the most of my exile that railroaded me from this bank 3 years ago this month. Nevertheless, what was unjustly taken from me is never far from the forefront of my mind. One might wonder why I would waste my time on those in the academic shop that so ridiculously robbed me of my dream job on my very first day. Purely on the merits of a mindset that systematically sharpens knowledge—their shop is by far the best I’ve ever seen. But like anyone else, they have their weaknesses. They’ve been insulated in their bubble of excellence for so long that they lost their humanity along the way—and clearing my name and reinstating my contract would be the first step in finding it again. I could walk into that shop and start working tomorrow without being burdened in the slightest by what these people put me through—which is a brand of integrity that takes time and effort to develop. I’m in pretty good company with that attitude, as Einstein himself said, “In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.”

All the more confounding is that Bank of America has this amazing crew as a model of excellence in so many forms—and yet hardly anyone outside that group even knows about it. It is a monumental failure at the highest levels that the same company could harbor such high standards in one group—while systemic mediocrity is tolerated in pockets of others. It’s always the bad apples that poison the waters of possibility—and incredibly, we have created a culture that caters to such kind.

I wouldn’t want to miss out on any of the experiences that have come my way as a result of this fiasco. From my work in Reno to the documentary I released in May 2014, I have turned my distress into once-in-a-lifetime opportunities. My 7-part YouTube video is not directly related to the bank—but as it deals with human nature, the illustrations of imprudence parallel the same principles of pure folly:

Mount Everest Of The Obvious_Postcard_front

Mount Everest Of The Obvious_Postcard_back


January 21, 2012

I’m the man on a mission all bundled up every morning from 7-10 outside of Starbucks at Bank of America – Gateway Village. Even under unpleasant conditions, I enjoy reading my John Adams book every day, and it’s been a pleasure meeting all those who have stopped by to learn of my plight. But whether the support comes as a quick kind word, a conversation, or you just knelt down to pick up a flier as you walked by—your curiosity and concern means more to me than you will ever know.

The purpose of this blog is to provide the backstory for those who might like to know more about how all this happened. What drives a person to invest hundreds of dollars into having professional signs made for a protest? As it turns out though, apparently there is only one sign that really matters—The Fraudulent 5.

That sign is not only creating a stir in the neighborhood, but I’ve also been threatened with a civil lawsuit if I don’t take it down—and I’m not budging one bit. I’ve got this document called the Constitution on my side, but even more important than that—I have the truth. The Fraudulent 5 may be embarrassed, but their collective humiliation is nothing compared to what I have experienced since this saga began in the summer of 2010.

Please feel free to contact me at should you have any questions or comments of any kind.

Thank you for taking the time to care!

Richard W. Memmer

Apathy has a tendency to do something that is very insidious. When allowed to creep into our heart, we have a tendency to want to justify our apathy—our lack of wanting to take action. . . . To do that, we must, rather than take the blame ourselves for our apathy, we must attack the message giver.

—Pastor Michael Furlong


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