The last in line.

Though wise clerks at shift end know close is nigh,
Because their words had reached no lingerers they
Do not go slow setting store to right.

Good gods, a last wave comes, crying how slight
Their porn needs must raze restored shelves this day,
Rage, rage at the last people of the night.

Oh how I hate them. Oh how many times I have plotted their gory demise. There are few that fester and rankle upon my nerves like the last-minute-shopper.

It was quiet the other night. We had done steady, solid business throughout the day, now the clock had crept to half an hour of closing and the store was empty. Attention shifts to putting the store back together again in preparation of the next day. The straightening and mild housekeeping progress smoothly without any customers crossing the threshold to divert my efforts.

Ten minutes before the hour of our close, people enter the store. A group of three; two guys and one girl. Their focus is trained upon the glass cases. I hold some hope as the cases are discrete, easily maintained. Even without a sale to this group, the disruption is minimal to the closing duties.

Moments later, two more people entered the store separately. These people are intent upon the shelves. Browsing the titles before them. All I can do is hope they limit their damage to as few sections as possible.

Two minutes before closing the party of three is headed out the door, packages in hand. I make the announcement that the store is closing momentarily and that any purchases should be brought up now.

Cretin one immediately abandons the movie racks to buy a handful of lube pillow packs which thrills me with boundless joy. His few dollars were so worth the time it was going to take to clean up the three sections he had dug through since entering.

Cretin two announces he'd like to rent the movies he has in hand, but lacks a rental account. Bliss. Pure honey-sweet bliss. The store is now officially closed and I get to do all the time-consuming steps of setting up a new membership, not to mention the subsequent rental. No it isn't difficult, but it is quite aggravating.

Only after "Mr. Paragon-of-efficient-planning" has left can I turn my attention to repairing the damage they have wrought. Of course, the area my newest rental customer spent most of his time at is totally thrashed.

Few things are as bitter as the chance of closing down smoothly and getting home early only to have that chance snatched away at the last moment. Few things make you feel so ill used as to make a meager sale (or have them leave without buying anything) at the cost of a huge mess to clean up. Few things are as enraging as a customer taking their sweet time after you have told them the store is closing.

I feel no remorse wishing them the microbes of a thousand bacteriology labs inhabiting their genitals.