Getting the shrinkflation blues

For those who haven’t been stung or haven’t noticed, shrinkflation is the opposite of inflation, where prices go up for the same amount of goods.

I first heard the term in the news last year, dismissed it as a clever marketing ploy, and left it at that. Not till I got stung by it recently did I take it seriously. Sure, since COVID it's been tough to make a living selling stuff. Still, there's no call to be sneaky about it.

For those who haven't been stung or haven't noticed, shrinkflation is the opposite of inflation, where prices go up for the same amount of goods. Here the price stays the same for less goods. And if the price has already been raised once or twice, which is likely, so much the worse for the buyer.

For me the term was just a passing fancy until a couple of things recently caught my eye. The first one involved a new box of Kelloggs “Two Scoop” raisin bran cereal. When I went to shelve the new box beside the old, the latter was obviously slimmer. Measuring it, I calculated that it contained six percent less cereal--for the same price.

My next surprise came on replacing a bottle of Dawn liquid dish soap. Shelving the new beside the old, I saw that the former was nearly an inch shorter but otherwise the same. (Well, not entirely the same, the new “Dawn” being yellow, while the old was blue (a purposeful distraction?) Also, whereas the former needed “50 per cent less scrubbing”, the new claimed “superior stain-fighting power!”

But at least the maker was honest about the shrinkage: in fine print below, the older said “473 ml”, compared to “431 ml” for the new. Still, a 10 per cent drop in volume. And I'm pretty sure they cost the same (from now on I'll save sales slips.)

Another example. On a Thursday evening two weeks ago I was sorting stuff for our Friday morning's roadside pickup. The county's rule is recyclables in blue plastic bags, garbage in clear bags, unmentionables in black bags. Sort it wrong and the collectors reject it. Some nights it takes me half an hour.

To hasten my sorting, I first drop an empty plastic bag inside each of three standard-sized metal garbage cans, folding the top over the rim and securing it with clothespins. When I'm done sorting the full bags go in my Garden Way cart down to our lane's end. Surprise! My latest batch of blue bags are one-third too small! Yet they come in the same-sized box at about the same price.

As if that weren't enough, the shrinkers have shrunk one of my favourite treats, namely Panache's ice cream-on-a-stick. What used to come as six regular-sized suckers filling a box, now comes as six “Minis” (about two-thirds the size) in a—get this—taller box. Taller to a harried shopper says “more”; but in fact it's far less—for about the same cost. Worse—without measuring I can't be sure—the chocolate coating feels thinner, falling apart when licked.

Am I being too hard to please? “Well,” says our harried shopkeeper, “that's what my supplier sent. For the regular size I'd have to raise the price.”

True; but at least it would be an honest price for honest content. Keep this up and you'll both lose customers.