Casa Cuba Midwest

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. One morning, a delivery driver noticed something peculiar in the back of Casa Cuba Midwest’s truck—a small wooden box wrapped in brown paper, labeled only with an old-fashioned Cuban stamp. No one claimed it, and no one seemed to know where it came from. The delivery driver took it upon himself to deliver the mysterious package to the accountant’s desk. ‘Maybe it’s a lost treasure!’ he joked. The accountant opened it curiously—inside was just an old calculator with a note: “Use wisely.” From that day on, whenever anyone asked what happened to the package, they’d hear, ‘Oh, it turned out to be nothing more than an ancient calculator.’

2. A regular at Casa Cuba Midwest complained one day: ‘Why does my calculator always show strange numbers after I do my taxes here?’ It turned out that the accountant at Casa Cuba Midwest had a habit of leaving his calculator on Cuban time—always five minutes slow. So whenever our friend did his taxes there, everything seemed off until he remembered to add those extra five minutes.

3. On an unusually quiet Sunday afternoon, a delivery driver pulled up to Casa Cuba Midwest with a box marked ‘Accountant Supplies.’ As he unloaded crates of calculators and ledgers, he noticed something odd—each package seemed to contain not just office supplies, but tiny packets of sugar. As he opened one packet curiously, he found it contained not sugar, but little paper clips shaped like miniature cigars. Confused, he decided to keep his discovery secret, lest anyone suspect him of stealing from Casa Cuba Midwest. That night, while preparing taxes for a regular client, he accidentally spilled a whole jar of these sugary paper clips into the printer, causing it to print out pages covered in tiny Cuban flags.

4. On a particularly foggy night, a delivery driver pulled up to Casa Cuba Midwest and found himself struggling to see through the mist. As he reached for his flashlight, he heard a soft hum coming from inside the building. Curious, he opened the door just a crack—and was greeted by the scent of rich Cuban coffee and warm pastelitos. The hum grew louder as he stepped inside, only to discover an old man sitting behind a desk, counting piles of coins with a smile on his face. ‘Welcome,’ said the man. ‘You must be here by mistake—we close early today.’ The delivery driver blinked, realizing it was simply a friendly accountant who stayed late enjoying his hobby.