USPS' PERPETUAL BLUNDER

blunder : verb to make a mistake through stupidity, ignorance, or carelessness

Prognosis , prognosticate: noun , verb literally, foreknowledge, to know before, foretell. That’s a vord I like in English language. A vord that defines my specialty in predicting about how a given situation will develop. My prognosis in this case is limited to one word: hopeless.
Here's why?

After exchanging e-mails with you, dear Roy, I struggled to contain my anger. USPS’ plan to provide me with disinformation had worked. I felt betrayed and had hard time falling asleep. This was going to be big. The biggest bombshell was about to drop ever since the Da Vinci Code.
I entered the USPS building as usual. Hello, I said to the Californian Cow. Another ruminating cow-behind-the desk, I thought. Trying to make my voice businesslike but not severe. I put the Delivery Confirmation slip on the desk in front of her vacuous, cow-like eyes. Can you tell me why this shows the item is still in the building? My ominous question alarmed her, and suddenly jibberished something in Spanish. For in California, if you had a problem or caused a problem, you were either one of them taco-benders-Mexican or a Fu Manchu or Filipino. Do I look like Mexican to you? I snapped. Now, chapfallen, her eyes grazing over my golden-hair then locked into my hazel eyes, she stammered, No. But, um, you could be. I mean, there are blonds and blue eyes in Mexico. I was shocked. Did I hear right? Diversion.
Good tactic, you stupid cow, I thought. What was wrong with this country? With this people? It was not enough that the world’s biggest country’s President mistook the Rocks in Iraq to Mass Destruction Weapons, and not to mention Djimon to Bin Laden, this cow was mistaken me for a Mexican(not that I had anything against them hard-working-taco-benders folks. Everyone in his own eyes is a Lion King. And the Lion, King of The Forest, wouldn’t like to be mistaken for a Dinosaur, no matter how almighty the creature was. The Lion would like to be respected as a Lion). She could’ve gone as far as Filipino but my non-slit-eyes would be a dead-give-away. So she thought she could get away with Benecio Del Toro character. Who did put this cow behind this desk? There was a fucking cow behind every desk in California. I saw myself gorging her cow-like eyes with my cell phone’s antenna, since I didn’t carry something that I could use as weapon in this kind of situations. Then I remembered my cell didn’t have an antenna. Cells didn’t come with antennas like them old days when you could use your cell as a weapon. I tried to compose myself. I glanced at her name tag, Listen, I said, now with a soft tone, like a shrink talking to his ADD and bipolar patient, although I would like to act very much like Michael Douglas in Falling Down, pulling the machine gun from my duffel bag and put the cow out her misery. But that would accomplish nothing. And my dear friend Roy, who has been curling by his mail-box for weeks, and on the verge of losing his sanity, wouldn’t be able to get his Djimon’s DVD.
Nned le para descubrir qué sucedió a este artículo, I said in Spanish. I need you to find out what happened to this item. Do you get me, sweetheart? She shook her head up and down, finally relaxing her cow-like jaw. I’ll be back, I said started to walk out, feeling her eyes grazing after me.