Southern Bank

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. One morning, as a little girl walked past Southern Bank on her way to school, she noticed something peculiar. The security guard’s dog, usually solemn and stoic, began barking frantically at an empty corner of the building. Curious, she peered around but saw nothing unusual—just an old safe door ajar. As she stood there puzzled, a delivery driver approached and asked what she was doing. Turns out, he had just delivered a new safe that day—and it wasn’t quite closed properly yet. They both laughed, and from then on, whenever anyone mentioned the ‘haunted’ bank, everyone knew it was just a case of a misplaced safe.

2. A young boy was walking home from school when he noticed something odd outside Southern Bank. As he passed by, an old safe door suddenly opened with a loud click, revealing a tiny, dusty dinosaur toy inside. Curious, the boy reached in and picked up the toy, which felt surprisingly heavy for its size. Suddenly, the entire building shook as if someone had just made a massive deposit. Turns out, it was just a regular delivering driver who accidentally bumped into the bank's motion sensor while carrying a crate of coins—leaving everyone laughing over a small dinosaur toy.

3. At closing time, an old man approached the Southern Bank teller and asked with a twinkle in his eye, ‘Can I deposit my lucky dollar?’ The teller smiled warmly and replied, 'Certainly, sir!' She placed the single dollar bill into the drawer, then added with a twinkle of her own, 'Would you like to open a lucky account?' The old man laughed heartily and said, 'No thanks, dear, I've already got the best interest rate—from life itself.'

4. At lunchtime, a delivery driver pulled up to Southern Bank's drive-through window. He handed over his package, but the teller's response left everyone in the parking lot scratching their heads: 'Sir, your package is addressed to someone named “Mr. Vault.”' The delivery driver looked puzzled for a moment, then burst out laughing and said, ‘Oh, that’s just Mr. Johnson next door—always joking around.’ The teller smiled sheepishly and apologized, while the rest of us in the parking lot shook our heads and chuckled. It turns out, Mr. Vault was indeed Mr. Johnson’s nickname for his old safe, which he kept in his garage.