For many people, self-checkout machines seem like a gift of convenience. You grab your items, scan them quickly, pay with your card, and leave without waiting in line. No small talk, no wasted time. On the surface, it feels like progress—like technology stepping in to make life smoother. But behind that glowing screen and robotic voice reminding you to “place your item in the bagging area,” there’s a darker side that most shoppers never think about until it’s too late.
Big retailers love these machines. They don’t need to pay a cashier, they can keep more lanes open without hiring more people, and they can handle crowds faster. But the truth is, the savings they make on labor often come with a hidden cost, and it’s not theirs to bear. It’s the customer who pays when things go wrong.
Carrie Jernigan, a criminal defense lawyer who’s gained a following on social media by sharing real-life legal pitfalls, has been warning people for years about the dangers of self-checkout. Not the dangers you might expect—like stolen card information or technical glitches that overcharge you. The real danger, she says, is that you might walk away from the store with a criminal record without ever meaning to steal a thing.
According to Jernigan, big retailers are quick to treat any irregularity at the self-checkout as theft. It doesn’t matter if you forgot to scan an item by accident, if the machine didn’t register your swipe, or if the barcode didn’t scan properly. If a store investigator later sees a missing item on the security cameras, you could find yourself accused of shoplifting. In her words, “An innocent oversight can swiftly transform into a potential criminal act.”
Think about that. You grab a case of bottled water and balance it under the cart, planning to scan it last. Then a child tugs at your sleeve, or your phone buzzes with a message, and suddenly you’re distracted. You bag your other items, pay, and head out. It’s a simple mistake, something most people would shrug off. But in the eyes of a major chain store, it’s not a mistake—it’s theft. And once they’ve decided you’re guilty, they won’t hesitate to press charges.
What makes it worse is how determined these stores are to “make an example” of customers. As Jernigan explains, retailers don’t need much evidence to call the police. A grainy video clip, a receipt that doesn’t match the products in your cart, or even just suspicion can be enough. And once that accusation sticks, the consequences can be devastating. Being charged with theft doesn’t just mean paying a fine. It could mean a criminal record. It could mean losing your job if your employer finds out. In some cases, it could even mean jail time.
This aggressive approach isn’t about justice. It’s about money. Self-checkout machines are expensive to install and maintain. They’re also magnets for both intentional and accidental theft. Retailers try to balance the cost by cracking down hard on anyone they believe is abusing the system. In their logic, prosecuting customers—even innocent ones—acts as a deterrent. It sends a message: Don’t mess with the machines, don’t make mistakes, and don’t expect mercy.
But this leaves ordinary shoppers in a strange and unsettling position. Using a self-checkout lane means stepping into a space where the margin for error is almost zero. The machine isn’t perfect, you aren’t perfect, and distractions are everywhere. Yet the consequences of one small slip can be far bigger than the cost of a forgotten candy bar or an unscanned loaf of bread.
Imagine going shopping after a long day at work. You’re tired, your kids are restless, and all you want to do is get home. You head to self-checkout because the regular lanes are backed up with long lines. You start scanning your groceries, trying to juggle everything at once. A bag of apples doesn’t scan. The screen freezes. You call for help, but the attendant is busy fixing another machine. You try again, and finally the system accepts it. But in all the chaos, something else doesn’t register. You don’t notice. You pay, grab your receipt, and walk out.
Two weeks later, there’s a knock on your door. A police officer is standing outside. You’re confused at first, then horrified as they explain you’re being charged with shoplifting. The store reviewed its security tapes. They claim you left without paying for an item. You know you didn’t mean to. You might not even remember it happening. But now you’re facing a charge that could change your life.
That’s the nightmare Jernigan warns about. And it’s not rare. In fact, many attorneys like her say they’re seeing more and more cases tied directly to self-checkout machines. It’s become one of the easiest ways for a regular, law-abiding person to end up with a criminal record.
Retailers argue that self-checkout theft costs them billions of dollars every year. And it’s true that some people abuse the system on purpose—swapping barcodes, pretending to scan items, or bagging things without paying. But their heavy-handed response often fails to separate intentional theft from simple human error. Instead, the system treats everyone as a potential criminal.
It’s a strange trade-off. On one hand, self-checkout saves you time. On the other, it could cost you much more than you ever saved. Convenience comes with a risk that most people don’t realize until it’s too late.
So the question becomes: is it worth it? Do you take the risk every time you step up to one of those glowing machines? Or do you stick with the human cashier, where mistakes are less likely to turn into accusations?
Jernigan suggests thinking twice. She advises people to use staffed checkout lanes whenever possible. A cashier is trained to scan items correctly, handle glitches, and make sure everything is in order. If something goes wrong, you’re much less likely to be blamed for it. With self-checkout, the responsibility falls entirely on you. And if you slip, the store may not forgive you.
For some, the risk may seem small. After all, thousands of people use self-checkout every day without issues. But consider how many of those machines exist across the country, how often they glitch, and how quick retailers are to call the police. The odds don’t look so comforting anymore.
It’s not just about theft charges, either. There’s also the stress and embarrassment of being pulled aside at the store when a sensor goes off or when an employee suspects you of wrongdoing. Even if you did nothing wrong, being treated like a thief in public can be humiliating. And once the accusation is made, clearing your name isn’t always simple.
For big corporations, these cases are numbers on a spreadsheet. But for the person accused, it’s personal. It can shatter trust, damage reputations, and create lasting fear around something as ordinary as buying groceries.
So maybe the next time you’re standing in front of a self-checkout, you’ll pause. You’ll weigh the minutes saved against the risks you might be taking. Is skipping the line really worth the chance of facing a criminal charge? Is convenience worth the possibility of being branded a thief for life?
The truth is, only you can decide. But as Jernigan’s warnings show, the hidden cost of those machines can be far greater than anyone expects.