About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. A delivery driver pulled up to Progressive National Bank one morning, frowning as he inspected his truck’s rearview mirror. Something seemed off with the security camera above him. As he leaned closer, he saw that the camera was pointing directly at him—obviously maladjusted. With a shake of his head and a smile, he drove in, parked, and went inside. Later that day, a neighbor commented on how odd it looked when ‘that delivery guy’ kept waving at himself in the security feed.
2. A middle-of-the-night security guard at Progressive National Bank heard an odd humming sound coming from inside the vault. Curious but cautious, he approached only to discover rows of tiny banknotes dancing in perfect formation. As he watched, mesmerized, one little note twirled towards him and whispered, ‘Don’t worry, we’re just here for a coffee break.’ Turning around, he saw that the entire vault was filled with dancing bills, each holding a paper cup. The guard laughed and joined them, enjoying a late-night dance party before returning everyone to their proper places.
3. A neighbor passing by Progressive National Bank noticed something peculiar: every afternoon, right on the dot, the bank’s clock would stop for exactly three seconds before resuming its tick-tock. One day, a delivery driver arrived with an oversized package. As he struggled to carry it inside, everyone watched in amusement as the clock stopped again—this time for five seconds. Just then, the door opened wide, and out popped the bank manager, yelling, 'Time is money!' Everyone laughed, realizing that maybe the clock was just trying to save them some precious minutes.
4. Every weekday at precisely noon, a strange whiff of freshly baked bread would waft through Progressive National Bank's lobby. Employees and customers alike would stop mid-task, sniffing curiously. One day, an elderly gentleman approached the counter and asked the teller, ‘Excuse me, young lady, but do you know what kind of bakery delivers their goods at exactly noon every day?’ The teller smiled and replied, ‘No sir, I haven’t the slightest idea.’ The old man nodded wisely and said, ‘That’s because it’s not a bakery—it’s just our friendly neighborhood Progressive National Bank!’ Everyone burst out laughing, realizing they’d been smelling nothing more exotic than freshly printed money.