In my younger, wilder, punk-rock days, there was a ritual I would partake in every time I had something to celebrate—and, admittedly, many times even when I did not.
The ritual would begin with one very large, very cold beer, and then several more after that.
Before long I would be quite drunk, revelling in my recent accomplishments until I could no longer remember what they were, or why I deserved to celebrate.
Rinse (thoroughly) and repeat.
Now 35 years old and nearly two years sober, I’ve had to develop new indulgences to mark those days of personal victory—namely, one specific, decadent cake from a Whistler Village eatery.
Let me tell you—this cake does not mess around, and the minute I had my first bite I was transported to a previously unknown world of sweet delicacy. I was hooked.
That was years ago now, but I still have flashbacks about that first bite of cake—enough so that it has become a semi-regular fixture in my life, at least when I need a reward or just a pick-me-up.
So imagine my furious, fat-faced surprise when I went to buy my favourite cake recently only to find it was noticeably smaller than in months and years past—and selling for the same price.
This is the part where some may call on me to name and shame the business, but that was never the intent of this column—mostly because I can’t be certain everyone isn’t doing the exact same thing.
But once I noticed my stunted little cake, I started seeing the signs of shrinkflation everywhere.
A chicken switcheroo at a major fast-food chain, swapping something that at least resembled chicken for some sort of chicken goop imitation (and somehow having the nerve to charge more than the previous iteration); a slight, but measurable, drop in the total weight of your bag of chips; a sly redesign of a bottle, supposedly to refresh the brand aesthetic but with a hidden motive of shrinking your serving size.
It’s not just anecdotal. A CBC Marketplace investigation published in November identified several items that were downsized recently, including a brand of pumpkin pie filler that old Betty Henry in London, Ont., has been using for 50 years to make her Thanksgiving pies.
Henry told CBC she won’t be using the filler again after discovering the manufacturer started using water to pad out the ingredients.
“I just found it a sneaky way to cut down on costs,” she said. “I don’t like paying for water. You can get it out of the tap, you don’t need to buy it.”
So true, Betty. Damn the man.
Our local businesses aren’t innocent, either. A Whistler sandwich shop I’ve been buying lunch from for close to a decade recently swapped out its baguettes for a much smaller, presumably cheaper baguette. The result is a noticeably smaller sandwich, but did the price go down?
No—just my incentive to buy it.
Canada’s Competition Bureau is currently conducting a market study into competitiveness in the grocery sector, which hopefully indicates a step in the right direction—time will tell.
But once you start to really see the shrinkflation, there’s no way you can ignore all the extra fees that are being levied at you in every transaction.
Used a delivery app lately? My most recent order includes a semi-reasonable subtotal, then a delivery fee, a service fee, an estimated tax, and the driver tip, leaving me with a total nearly double what I started with.
Don’t even get me started on the Resort Municipality of Whistler and its seemingly bottomless well of both new and increased fees.
Like the good, polite Canadian I am, I have always erred on the side of empathy and understanding. Businesses are dealing with very real cost pressures themselves, with profit margins shrinking all the time. But for us consumers, it’s getting to be a bit much, eh? It’s important to support local businesses, but nobody appreciates feeling like they’re being taken advantage of, and with the price of everything on a seemingly endless upward trajectory, there’s only so much spending money to go around.
It’s also disheartening, because for the most part, we just have to suck it up. Most people are too busy/stressed/tired to push back/speak out/notice how bad they’re being hosed at the end of the day.
So where is the bottom? How far can the quality of goods and services be stretched before they’re just not worth purchasing at all?
According to Canada’s Food Price Report 2023—compiled annually by researchers from Dalhousie University, the University of Guelph, the University of Saskatchewan and the University of British Columbia—the expected food price increase for 2022 of five to seven per cent was actually exceeded as of September, at 10.3 per cent.
For 2023, the report is again predicting an increase in food prices of five to seven per cent, due to factors like “adverse climate events, rising geopolitical tensions, high oil prices, and a falling Canadian dollar.”
The report notes that more Canadian consumers are trying to save money by reading weekly flyers, using coupons, taking advantage of volume discounting, and using food rescuing apps.
And in Whistler, they are increasingly turning to the food bank, which is now serving between 800 and 1,000 people every month—up from about 200 per month, pre-COVID.
“We are seeing a constant increase in need that doesn’t seem to go down,” Gizem Kaya, food security and community development manager for the Whistler Community Services Society, told Pique last fall. “We kept thinking maybe things will be better for people, but really the housing situation is not helping.”
So don’t expect demand at the food bank to drop in 2023. Food prices will keep rising, the portions will likely keep shrinking, and the Great Canadian Rip-Off will continue unabated until something breaks for good.
In the meantime, I’ll have to find a new, more frugal way to celebrate life’s little victories. I’ve been hearing good things about dirt.
