Texas Mutual Insurance

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. One foggy morning in Texas, an early bird delivery driver pulled up to Texas Mutual Insurance. As he stepped out of his truck, he noticed something odd: the building seemed to be shifting ever so slightly, like it had taken on a life of its own. Curious, the driver approached the door and heard a faint voice whispering, ‘Please don’t leave yet.’ He looked around but saw no one. Then, as he turned back, the building suddenly straightened itself with a gentle creak, causing him to laugh nervously. From then on, whenever anyone asked if he’d seen anything strange there, he’d just smile and say, ‘Oh yeah, that old place talks sometimes.’

2. One day at Texas Mutual Insurance, a regular customer asked the receptionist, ‘Why do you always seem so surprised when I come here?’ The perplexed clerk replied, ‘Because every time you walk through that door, your claim is for something completely different!’ Another frequent visitor was a delivery driver who insisted his truck kept mysteriously running out of gas on empty roads. After months of claims, the receptionist finally said, 'Sir, maybe your tank isn’t as empty as you say!' To which he replied, smiling sheepishly, 'I’ll remember to fill it up next time.'

3. In the dead of night, a lone owl hooted outside Texas Mutual Insurance, its eerie calls echoing through the empty corridors. Inside, an overnight clerk swore he saw a shadowy figure gliding past his desk. Suddenly, a sleepy voice from behind said, ‘I’ve been here longer than you, and I haven’t seen anything.’ Turning around, the clerk found only the smiling face of the night janitor, who added with a twinkle in his eye, “It’s just the ghost of our old CEO, making sure everything’s copacetic.”

4. In the depths of winter, when snowflakes danced outside Texas Mutual Insurance's windows, a gruff old man stormed into the lobby. 'Why,' he growled, 'does my mailbox always get stuck on Sundays?' The receptionist smiled and shook her head. ‘It’s not your mailman,’ she said with a twinkle in her eye. ‘It’s our Sunday janitor who loves to fix things.’ The old man snorted but left with a smile, knowing that his Sunday ritual was safe—just as long as no one mentioned Monday mornings!’