About this location
A few stories people tell about this place
1. A few years ago, a regular noticed something peculiar on the counter of South Berkeley Station Post Office. Every morning, among the usual stamps and envelopes, there appeared a single banana. No one knew whose it was or why it kept showing up. One day, a delivery driver joked that maybe bananas were part of some secret postal diet plan. Soon enough, everyone started bringing in their own bananas—green ones, yellow ones, even banana-shaped stickers. The post office became famous for its daily banana ritual until someone finally asked if they could start selling them. And so, South Berkeley Station Post Office began offering fresh bananas alongside stamps and packages.
2. A few years ago, a delivery driver pulled up to the South Berkeley Station Post Office one morning and noticed an odd smell wafting from inside. As he approached the entrance, he heard a strange humming noise coming from behind the counter. Curious, he peeked around the corner and saw a small bluebird perched on top of the mail sorting machine, diligently humming along as it sorted letters into different slots. The driver chuckled, took a picture for his wife, and went on his way—leaving the little bird to its postal duties.
3. A few years ago, a delivery driver pulled up to the South Berkeley Station one rainy afternoon. As he stepped inside with his dripping umbrella, he noticed an old man in the corner mailbox slot, diligently sorting letters and packages. The driver smiled politely but kept his distance. After a while, the old man looked up and asked, ‘Is that your raincoat or are you just happy to see me?’ Turned out it was a regular guy organizing freebies for neighbors—everyone knew him as Mr. Mailman. The driver left with a laugh and a new friend.
4. A few years ago, an old man walked into the South Berkeley Station Post Office with a puzzled look on his face. As he approached the counter, his granddaughter tugged on his sleeve and whispered excitedly, ‘Grandpa, why is that lady talking to herself in Russian?’ The elderly gentleman smiled gently and leaned down to whisper back, ‘She’s not talking to herself, sweetheart. She’s just saying “stamps” over and over again.’ The little girl giggled, while the postal worker looked up from her stack of envelopes with a smile, nodding knowingly.