Filed under: Budgets, Food, Ripoffs and Scams, Shopping, Recession

I’ve discovered that one of the joys of city shopping is that, rather than relying on one or two stores for all buys, city shoppers get to go to dozens of stores, each of which carries one or two items. While some people may be able to resist the siren call of the specialty joint, I can’t. Having discovered the perfect cheese shop or the best place for pesto, I always feel like I’m cheating myself if I go back to the supermarket. This, by the way, is one of the reasons that it takes me an insanely huge amount of time to shop.

One of my specialty stores is the Indian market around the corner. They’ve great spices, outstanding flatbreads, superb desserts, and astonishing samosas. The thing that keeps me coming back, though, is the almonds. The Naveen market’s almonds are perfectly crunchy and have a great taste. Now that I’ve gotten used to them, I can’t even envision going back to stale almonds that taste like cardboard. Added to the great taste and texture, there’s also the fact that the Indian store has great prices on almonds. When I first bought the nuts, they were going for $5.99 a pound and $8.99 for two pounds, prices that are insanely good for my area.

A few weeks ago, though, the market started trying to pull a fast one on me. Although their prices remained constant — $5.99 for the small bag and $8.99 for the huge bag — they reduced the weight of their products. The small bag now contained 14 ounces and the massive bag contained 28 ounces. Given that I was now getting a quarter of a pound fewer almonds for my $8.99, this was a markup of roughly 13%. I tried other stores and other almonds, but I eventually returned. The Naveen market was still charging the lowest prices and they still had the ideal almonds. I wasn’t happy about it, but there it was — I was stuck with paying nine bucks for the 28-ounce bag.
As it turns out, my local Indian store isn’t the only company that’s playing the weight game. As inflation and fuel costs drive up the price of foodstuffs, many companies are saving money by resorting to smaller sizes. Edy’s, for example, still charges $5.99 for a tub of ice cream, but the tub has shrunk from 1.75 quarts to 1.5 quarts, a 15% reduction. Other companies, from Tropicana orange juice to Wrigley’s gum, are using the same tactic of keeping a consistent price while decreasing the size of the product. Even bars and restaurants are getting into the act, often offering a 14-ounce glass of suds for the same price that they used to charge for 16 ounces.

Most analysts concur that the primary impetus that drives a purchase is brand loyalty. As someone who came from a Crest family, drank Minute Maid orange juice each morning and wiped his butt with ScottTissue every day until the age of 18, I have to admit that there is a lot of power in brands. In fact, I know many shoppers who buy their groceries on autopilot, picking up the same packages every time they go to the store with barely a glance at the labels. Manufacturers seem to be banking on the fact that, while people notice a rise in prices, they aren’t quite as swift to pick up on a drop in size. In that context, the new packaging method is a masterstroke.

On the other hand, if your favorite brand is trying to trick you, it might be a good time to reconsider your loyalties…

Bruce Watson is a freelance writer, blogger, and all-around cheapskate. A 14-ounce beer? Are you kidding me?

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Filed under: Ripoffs and Scams

So I was getting my mail yesterday, and I got one of those offers guaranteeing me two prizes, if all I’d do is saunter into a automobile dealership in my area and show them my “Notice of Intent to Award Prize.”

Now I know that I’m not about to really win a prize, or not in the way that I hope. I know this isn’t a good deal. I know it instinctively, without even giving this piece of paper a second glance, just like we all do. But just for laughs, I thought I’d give this a real look. After all, while I’m sure almost everyone reading this wouldn’t fall for this sort of thing, some people must, and probably either young and not yet jaded adults, or folks who are feeling a little desperate and thinking, “Maybe my ship has finally come in…”

If these forms didn’t occasionally draw someone in, they wouldn’t send them.

My prizes, if I would want to go into see my friendly neighborhood Chevrolet dealer, would be two of:

• a 3 day/2 night resort getaway (retail value: $500)
• a $2,500 instant scratch ticket
• a home theater system (retail value: $500)
• a $1,000 instant scratch ticket
• $10,000 cash

Ooooh. Now that does sound nice, doesn’t it? And since they put in capital letters GUARANTEED WINNER OF AT LEAST TWO (2) PRIZES and even stated, “this is NOT a joke, prank or gimmick,” I really did feel like this worth studying. I mean, honestly, even if there’s a catch, they have to be serious on some level.

So I looked at the fine print.
“Contest is open to legal US citizens who are 21 years of age or older as of 6/25/2008 (the date I received this).” OK, nothing weird there. Paraphrasing now: Employees of the place are ineligible. Contest is ongoing from June 25th to June 29th.

And then, I see it. The fine print that explains the odds of winning. Thank you, Federal Deceptive Mail Prevention and Enforcement Act, which came about in 1999, governing sweepstakes — which this essentially is –through the mail. My odds of winning the $10,000 in cash, or the home theater system, are both one in thirty-seven thousand. Actually, 1 in 37,252.

My odds of winning the $1,000 scratch ticket are the same as the $2,500 scratch ticket — 1 out of 177,100.

But my odds of winning the 3 day/2 night resort getaway are 1 in 1. One-hundred percent.

Even with this wonderful guaranteed prize, were I to go in and claim it, the fine print reveals that my hotel prize doesn’t include “transportation, hotel taxes, service charges, Florida state sales tax or gratuities.” Being that I’m in Ohio, this could be a pricey trip.

So I thought about it and wondered — what would happen if I went in, took the resort prize (and I have no idea the name of this resort or if it’s on the beach or 80 miles from anywhere interesting) and then I actually beat all of the odds and won something? What would happen?

Well, I finally concluded, that the dealership owner probably would grit his teeth and give me my other prize. But he’s probably happy to take that chance. And why not? He likes his odds.

Geoff Williams is a business journalist and the author of C.C. Pyle’s Extraordinary Foot Race: The True Story of the 1928 Coast-to-Coast Run Across America (Rodale). He hopes that if you know someone who seems susceptible to these types of marketing, that you’ll forward it to them.

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