If you avoid self-checkout at all costs, you probably have these 9 personality traits

Self-checkout lanes are one of those polarizing fixtures of modern life. Some people embrace them like a fast-pass to freedom, zipping through with their oat milk lattes and organic kale. Others treat them like a cursed slot machine—confusing, untrustworthy, and not worth the stress.

I fall somewhere in the middle. As a vegan snack reviewer and someone who’s spent too many hours in front of glowing screens, I sometimes crave the human interaction of a cashier’s smile or a quick chat about whether my bag of mushroom chips is actually tasty (spoiler: they usually are).

So what does it say about you if you always avoid self-checkout? If you walk right past the empty kiosks and stand in line behind six overflowing carts just to get scanned by a real person? Let’s unpack the personality traits this quirky choice might reveal.

1. You value human connection

At its core, avoiding self-checkout is often about craving interaction. Maybe you like the cashier’s small talk, or the subtle comfort of another person acknowledging your purchase.

This doesn’t mean you’re extroverted in every aspect of life—it just means you know the quiet value of human presence.

I’ve had some of my best micro-conversations at checkout: bonding with a clerk over kombucha brands, or swapping music recommendations with a teenager scanning my vegan jerky. These moments feel small, but they add texture to otherwise mundane errands.

2. You’re skeptical of technology

Self-checkouts promise efficiency, but in reality? They can feel glitchy, awkward, and unreliable.

If you avoid them, it could mean you have a healthy skepticism toward shiny new tech. You don’t fall for every “innovation” that gets rolled out, especially if it shifts the burden of work onto the customer.

You probably read terms and conditions before clicking “I agree.” You might not be the first in line for every new app or gadget. And honestly, in a world where stores use tech to cut staff, your caution isn’t misplaced.

3. You’re loyal—and maybe nostalgic

Loyalty is underrated. If you choose the cashier’s line over the kiosk, it might come from a sense of responsibility to the workers who keep the store running.

There’s also nostalgia in sticking with the “classic” method. You remember a time before everything was automated, and you’re in no rush to surrender that human touch.

I once watched an older gentleman in line at a co-op tell the cashier he “didn’t trust robots with his groceries.” He chuckled, but I knew there was truth in his resistance. Avoiding self-checkout can be an act of memory as much as preference.

4. You’re detail-oriented

Here’s the thing: self-checkouts require precision. Misplace your reusable bag? Double-scan your tofu? Forget to punch in the PLU code for avocados? Suddenly you’re waving down an employee anyway.

If you avoid all that, it could be because you know you’re detail-oriented. You want a professional to make sure every item is handled correctly.

It’s not laziness—it’s delegation. You respect accuracy, and you’d rather the person trained to scan barcodes take the reins.

5. You’re patient (in the right contexts)

It takes patience to stand in line while others breeze past you at kiosks. But patience isn’t just about waiting—it’s about choosing where to invest your energy.

You’d rather spend five extra minutes in line than fifteen fumbling with a screen that insists your oat milk is “unexpected item in the bagging area.”

Your patience is practical. You know when to slow down and when to streamline, and that balance carries into other parts of life.

6. You appreciate accountability

When you go through a human cashier, you feel a sense of accountability. If something goes wrong, there’s a real person to sort it out. If you need to return your vegan cookie dough because it mysteriously exploded (true story for me), there’s a record.

Avoiding self-checkout can mean you value systems with oversight. You don’t want errors disappearing into the digital void—you want transparency, paper trails, and someone who can look you in the eye and say, “We’ll fix this.”

7. You resist unnecessary self-service

There’s a principle at play here: you don’t believe customers should be doing all the work in a transaction they’re paying for.

Self-checkout often feels like stores outsourcing labor onto the very people who are giving them money. You might avoid it on principle, knowing that your business is worth the full service.

This doesn’t make you entitled—it makes you conscious of fairness. It’s the same energy as tipping your barista generously but side-eyeing airlines when they charge you to choose a seat.

8. You thrive on routine

Rituals matter. If avoiding self-checkout is part of your shopping rhythm, it shows you find comfort in predictability.

The steps are familiar: unload cart, chat briefly, bag up, pay, head out. This routine grounds you in a world where so much feels chaotic and fast-paced.

I’ve noticed this in myself when I’m grocery shopping after a long day of writing or photography. I don’t want another new system to navigate—I want the simple, soothing routine of human checkout.

9. You’re quietly rebellious

Finally, avoiding self-checkout can be a subtle act of rebellion. You see the way corporations push automation to cut costs, and you decide to resist in your own small way.

It’s not loud or dramatic—you’re not staging a protest in the frozen aisle—but by choosing the cashier, you’re signaling: I value people over profit.

In a culture that glorifies speed and convenience, choosing slowness is its own kind of statement.

Wrapping it up

Self-checkout avoidance isn’t just about where you scan your groceries—it’s a microcosm of your values. It shows you prioritize connection, accountability, and fairness over convenience. It hints at your patience, your loyalty, and maybe even your quiet rebellion.

Personally, I think there’s something beautiful about those who resist the self-checkout trend. Not because the kiosks are evil (I’ve used them at midnight when the cashier line was closed, trust me), but because it shows you’re tuned into something bigger than efficiency.

Next time you find yourself in line behind the lone cashier while the self-checkout glows empty, take a moment to recognize what that choice says about you. It’s more than a quirk—it’s a reflection of values that shape how you move through the world.

And hey, if you ever spot me in line with a basket of vegan mochi, feel free to tap me on the shoulder. I’ll probably be avoiding self-checkout right alongside you.