Wells Fargo

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. A delivery driver was unloading crates one morning when he noticed something odd: every box seemed to contain exactly twenty-three pens, no more, no less. Was it some sort of secret code or just a quirky coincidence? As days passed, everyone in town started noticing—no matter what time of day you visited Wells Fargo, there were always exactly twenty-three pens on display. Even the janitor joked that maybe they should start selling them for twenty-four dollars each! In the end, it turned out to be nothing but a clerical error from their supplier—a regular who thought twenty-three looked like a lucky number.

2. It was an ordinary autumn afternoon in downtown San Francisco when a delivery driver pulled up to Wells Fargo. As he unloaded boxes from his truck, he heard a faint whisper coming from inside one of them. Curious, he opened it and found only old letters sealed with wax. Turns out, someone had accidentally shipped their great-grandmother’s belongings instead of office supplies. A warm smile spread across his face as he imagined telling that story over coffee with his neighbor later.}

3. A delivery driver was unloading boxes late one night when he spotted something peculiar—a tiny violin nestled among the stacks of envelopes. He picked it up curiously and carried on with his work, never dreaming that this little instrument would soon become the centerpiece of Wells Fargo’s after-hours entertainment. As days passed, more employees began noticing the violin’s presence during their late-night shifts. Soon enough, a regular started humming along, then another joined in softly singing old cowboy ballads. Before long, Wells Fargo had its very own secret karaoke night—complete with a dusty old microphone and an enthusiastic audience of bankers who’d never admit they loved country music.

4. A delivery driver was unloading crates early one morning when he heard someone whispering from inside a box. "Is anyone there?" he asked, puzzled. Curious, he opened the crate and found only old newspapers wrapped in dusty brown paper. ‘Who’s there?’ he called out again, but then realized with a laugh that it must’ve been his imagination playing tricks on him. As he drove off, he glanced back at the empty crate and muttered, ‘Guess I’ll never know if it was just an old ghost story.’