Baird & Warner

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. In an old corner of Baird & Warner’s office, a regular noticed something peculiar one morning. Among the usual paperwork and real estate brochures lay a dusty old keyring with no apparent home. Who owned it? And what doors might it open? Curious, ‘a regular’ asked around, and soon enough, a delivery driver claimed it belonged to his lost bicycle lock. Turned out, the keyring had been hanging from his handlebars for months. The whole office erupted in laughter when they saw him sheepishly walk in, apologizing for the mix-up. Now, whenever anyone finds something strange at Baird & Warner, they simply ask, ‘Who lost their bike today?’

2. A new intern at Baird & Warner looked up from her desk one morning and saw a strange sight: the coffee machine seemed to be pouring espresso in perfect circles, like tiny dancing waves. Curious, she approached it, but just as she reached out, the pattern changed—now forming little hearts instead of circles. A delivery driver passing by asked if everything was okay, causing everyone to burst into laughter. Turns out, an old janitor had been tinkering with the machine during his break.

3. A young child pointed excitedly towards the window of Baird & Warner, exclaiming, ‘Mama, look! The house is dancing!’ The mother looked puzzled but smiled, leaning closer to see what her curious child was pointing at. All she could make out was an old estate agent’s sign swaying gently in the breeze. With a laugh, she explained, ‘No, sweetheart—it’s just our friendly neighborhood sign waving hello.’

4. At night, when Baird & Warner’s lights flickered off, a delivery driver swore he heard faint whispers coming from the empty offices. Curious, but not alarmed, he leaned closer—only to catch a strange scent of fresh-baked cookies wafting through the open door. The delivery driver tilted his head, sniffled again, and grinned. ‘Must be Mrs. Jenkins next door,’ he muttered. ‘She always bakes something special for her favorite estate agents.’ He knocked on the wall and called out, ‘Mrs. J., it’s me!’ Only silence answered him, except for another waft of warm cookies that made him smile wider—and left him wondering if maybe, just maybe, she had finally found a way to deliver them without leaving home.