PNC Bank

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. One foggy morning, as customers were just arriving for their daily coffee fix, an elderly gentleman entered PNC Bank with a large, old-fashioned suitcase. He shuffled towards the teller counter, muttering something about ‘checking his balance.’ As he approached the counter, everyone could see that the suitcase was bulging and heavy. The teller asked him politely if everything was okay. With a twinkle in his eye, the man replied, 'Oh yes, I'm just transferring my fortune from one branch to another!' Everyone burst out laughing, including the poor teller who had to explain to the rest of the staff why there was suddenly a suitcase full of old newspapers on her desk.

2. At dawn, when most banks are still locking their doors, a delivery truck pulled up outside PNC Bank. The driver, a gruff but friendly man named Joe, had a peculiar habit: every morning he left a single rose on the steps before heading inside. One day, as Joe was placing his usual rose, an old lady from across the street stopped him. ‘Joe,’ she asked curiously, ‘why do you always leave that flower here?’ With a twinkle in his eye, Joe replied, “Ma’am, it’s for the ghost of the bank’s founder who loves roses.” The old lady nodded knowingly and said, “Ah, I see… And does it work?” Smiling broadly, Joe answered, “Works like a charm!”}

3. At closing time, a security guard noticed something odd outside PNC Bank’s front door. ‘What in the world,’ he muttered, ‘is that a squirrel carrying a briefcase?’ The guard chuckled and shook his head. 'Must be one smart little critter,' he said, watching as the squirrel scurried off down the street with its briefcase still clutched tightly. The next morning, everyone in the neighborhood was talking about it—even the delivery driver remarked, 'I saw that same squirrel yesterday!' And so, for weeks afterward, whenever anyone asked where exactly PNC Bank was located, they’d reply, 'Oh, just follow the squirrel.'

4. One day, after hours, a lone security guard heard an unusual sound coming from inside the vault. Curious but cautious, he approached the door and peered through the small window—only to see a familiar face waving back at him. The guard waved back, puzzled yet amused. Suddenly, the figure whispered something indistinctly through the bars. The guard leaned closer, and with a smile said, 'Hey, it's just me—your friendly neighborhood janitor!'