The other day, I made a few simple purchases at a local shopping place. With the self-check-out out of order (which it has for the past two years), I found myself stuck in a sluggish checkout line behind a dozen customers—half of whom needed cigarettes. This, of course, meant the lone cashier had to turn around, unlock the cabinet, retrieve the pack, relock the cabinet, and repeat the process for each smoker in line.

At last, it was my turn. I handed over my money, expecting a smooth transaction. That’s when things took a turn. Up until this moment, the cashier had been moving at the speed of a hibernating tortoise. But suddenly, without warning, she transformed into a professional card dealer at a Vegas casino. In one lightening-fast movement, she stacked my receipt, bills, and a mound of coins into my left hand faster than I could blink, and shoved my bag into my right hand. Then she started scanning the items from the person behind me.

What was I supposed to do? I knew I needed to move out of the way, but I stood there, helpless, with a precarious pile of change in one hand and my bagged purchases in the other. If I tried to separate the coins from the bills using my bag-holding hand, I’d risk knocking the bag into my change-filled hand, sending coins clattering across the floor. Then I would be down on my hands and knees trying to catch the rolling coins while the customer behind me was forced to step over me. Or, with my luck, he would not be paying attention because he was texting and he would trip over me, causing severe bodily harm to us both.

Meanwhile, my wallet was still clutched in my right hand, meaning I had no free fingers. I suppose I could have laid my bag on the counter while I dealt with putting my change into my wallet, but then I would still be in the way of the person behind me. Plus, knowing myself all too well, I would have walked off and left my bag on the counter. But even if I’d managed to free up one hand, I’m not dexterous enough to unzip my wallet, open the coin pouch, and deposit change while balancing everything else. I guess I could have just dumped everything into my purse or shoved it all in my pocket to deal with later, but who was I kidding? Later, I wouldn’t come until I needed that receipt (which I would not be able to find), or I couldn’t find anything else in my purse because of all the unorganized mess that accumulated at the bottom.

I honestly don’t understand why cashiers render people powerless to deal with their change. There must be a secret training skill that cashiers are required to master to return change in the most awkward way possible. I can just envision cashiers undergoing exercises in piling up receipts, bills, and coins into a customer’s hand. “No, Susie, you are supposed to dump all the coins at once. Do it again until you get it right!” Maybe the management figures that if enough customers drop change on the floor, the business can rake in extra profits from all the coins that roll under the cashier’s desk.

In moments of desperation, I have been known to snatch my hand away after the cashier lays bills in my hand before she can load me up with coins. This way I can quickly put my bills into my wallet first. Sometimes it backfires and she releases the coins into the air. But then she has to chase them.

As aggravating as this situation is, I think I have finally found the solution. From now on, I’m only paying with credit or debit cards—assuming the card machine can read my chip, which is a BIG assumption.