About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. It was an unusually quiet morning at the Bank of America branch in downtown Chicago when a delivery driver arrived with an unexpected package. As he approached the counter, the teller noticed something peculiar about him—his eyes seemed to reflect the logo on the bank's wall. The teller smiled and asked if everything was okay. The driver blinked once, and his reflection on the bank’s glass door showed the smiling face of the branch manager. ‘Oh,’ said the teller, laughing, ‘looks like you’re having a bit of a mirror moment!’ From then on, whenever someone mentioned the story around town, everyone would joke that maybe the bank had hired its own reflection for extra customer service.’
2. It was an unseasonably warm February afternoon when a delivery driver pulled up to the Bank of America branch on Main Street. As he stepped out of his truck, he noticed something peculiar: the bank’s neon sign had started flickering like a strobe light, flashing different colors and patterns. Curious, the delivery driver approached the entrance, only to see the bank manager frantically trying to fix the sign with a screwdriver. 'What in the world is going on?' asked the driver. The manager looked up, grinning sheepishly. 'Oh, it's just our new energy-saving LEDs. They’re supposed to change color every hour.' A nearby neighbor chimed in, nodding knowingly, 'Yeah, and they’ve been practicing their disco moves for the grand reopening!'
3. A little boy walked into the Bank of America branch one day and asked his mom, ‘Why does that man keep talking to himself while counting money?’ The mother whispered back, ‘He’s not really talking to himself—he’s just saying hello to each dollar bill.’ The little boy nodded thoughtfully, then turned to a nearby delivery driver and said, ‘Hi, Mr. Twenty!’
4. It was a particularly foggy dawn when a local jogger noticed something odd outside the Bank of America on Main Street. As he approached closer, he saw an old man in a tweed suit diligently polishing the glass doors with an ancient cloth. Turns out, it wasn’t a ghost at all—just Mr. Jenkins, the retired bank manager, who’d been cleaning the same door every morning for the past decade. The jogger chuckled and waved goodbye, thinking to himself that some habits are harder to shake than others.