Whenever I go to the supermarket, I have a big decision to make. It has nothing to do with which cereal to buy or what to make for dinner. It's not figuring out the math so I know whether to get 4 = 8 or 6 = 15 rolls of paper towels. It's all about which checkout to use: cashier or self-checkout.

On the plus side for the self-checkout, the lines are usually a lot shorter. But the problem for me is that I suffer from a little-known affliction: I am self-checkout challenged. This means that I go to check out full of confidence but invariably something happens that will require a self-checkout supervisor to come over to help me with an item or to reset the machine or find a new product that will scan better. This results in a slowdown at the self-checkout line and a bunch of people on line glaring at me while I shrug my shoulders and blame it on the barcode.

This was the case the last time I was at the supermarket when I found myself stalled at the self-checkout machine. I had successfully weighed my bananas and looked them up by typing in their name, but then when I went to accept the weight, the machine flipped out and said I needed a store employee to finish the transaction. This time I couldn't blame it on the barcode because there was no barcode — just a bunch of bananas.

I looked around for a store employee, but there didn't seem to be anyone at their usual perch, waiting to assist the self-checkout challenged like myself. I thought maybe I could back out of the banana problem by hitting the cancel button, but I was afraid it would cancel the entire transaction, and I was already 20 items into the checkout process. Out of options, I decided maybe I could reason with it.

"Reset," I said to the machine, leaning in so the people at the other self-checkout lanes didn't hear me.

The giant X on the screen continued to flash at me.

I thought maybe I needed to be nicer to it.

"Please reset," I said.

The giant X didn't move.

I thought maybe it needed a compliment.

"You've been doing a great job so far," I said to it. "Could you please reset?"

Nothing happened.

I thought maybe I needed to be more complimentary and also more specific.

"You're a very attractive self-checkout machine," I said to it. "Could you please ring up my bananas?"

The giant X just glared at me.

I thought if I gave it any more compliments, it would think I was hitting on it and report me to the self-checkout authorities, so I decided to change tactics.

"Congratulations, you've won a year's supply of groceries," I said enthusiastically. "Simply ring up these bananas to claim your prize."

Fortunately, right at that moment, a store employee appeared at my side.

"Do you need help?" she asked. I wasn't sure if she was referring to ringing up my bananas or if she had overheard me and thought I was going bananas.

I nodded and pointed to the giant X on the screen. She stepped up to the checkout and swiped her employee card.

"Place your BANANAS in the bag," said the self-checkout machine. "And don't forget my year's supply of groceries."

Tracy Beckerman is the author of the Amazon Bestseller, "Barking at the Moon: A Story of Life, Love, and Kibble," available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble online! You can visit her at www.tracybeckerman.com.

Photo credit: Adrien Delforge at Unsplash