Snapshot: Functional for mailing letters, if you have a glacial epoch to wait around. Hellish parking lot.
Berkley's outpost of the venerable USPS dates from the Eisenhower Administration and, judging by the musty smell and dank groan of the ventilation, hasn't seen updates since Ike eyed up the military industrial complex with growing dread.
The town post office remains dedicated mostly to sorting, and a narrow corridor snakes past various seasonal displays and a table for filling out forms to a chronically clogged service area. Citizens, as part of your civic duty, please go to Royal Oak's huge facilities if you have twenty parcels to package up because Berkley USPS simply hasn't the room. Not that this stops some elderly lady in too-big sunglasses and leather leggings from choking the line by scribbling addresses on a stack of mailers anyways. Every. Darned. Week.
Expect no frills postal amenities that top out around a bank of post boxes and basic supplies, including bubble mailers and specialty parcel sizes. A small number of birthday and thank you cards at reasonable prices are on hand. Limited edition stamp sheets fly out the door in record time; not once have I ever been able to get so much as a lighthouse or a flower stamp for those relatives who like to see the various options.
No more than two post office agents man the desk at any time, and one older brunette lady desperately needs to stop gabbing with customers when the line-up reaches back to the front door. Urgency ends at the start of the queue, apparently. Peak times (lunch and after work) reveal the need for someone else on shift. A 45 minute wait at 1:30 PM on a weekday because someone clocked out for her lunch is ridiculous. I'll use this post office in a pinch when I have nothing better to do than gag on cloying air and listen to people talk about Depends.
Finally, the parking lot is shared with Rite-Aid and hasn't been repaved since 1953. Harried drivers whip in and out without watching where they go - be careful! Gaping potholes and broken curbs abound. I tried to make a right turn, ended up hitting my muffler on a bit of concrete that tore away from the exit ramp-thingy, and now face a complete replacement of a 9 week old muffler. UGH! :(
Note: This facility does not process passports. read more