Skimpflation: Paying More for Less in Corporate America's Race to the Bottom

Join host Donovan for a darkly humorous deep dive into skimpflation - the corporate trend of degrading services while maintaining or increasing prices. From vanishing airline amenities to ghost town retail stores, discover how companies are mastering the art of charging more for less while calling it "enhancement."

#capitalism #comedy #economics #consumerrights #corporateculture #businessnews #customerservice #retail #modernlife #inflation

Transcript

Recording from the self-checkout line at Target where he's been waiting twenty minutes for the one remaining employee to approve his purchase of a single pack of gum while the machine screams "unexpected item in bagging area"—it's your host, Donovan!

Deep dives in the shallow end

Hey folks, welcome to Waist-Deep Dives, where we wade through the shallow end of capitalism's cesspool while trying not to get our hair wet. I'm your not-so-expert host Donovan, and today we're talking about skimpflation: when products or services get worse, but prices stay the same or – because the universe has a sick sense of humor – go up. If shrinkflation is corporate America’s sleight of hand that tricks us into paying the same for less, you can think of skimpflation as its lazy uncle who lives rent free in the basement and is on year ten of coming up with a plan. He swears he will have his own place in the next month or two but is gonna need a little walking-around money in the meantime. Come to think of it, at this rate, this sounds like my retirement plan – talkin’ to you nieces and nephews.

But the term "skimpflation" emerged in 2021 when economists needed a fancy way to say "everything's getting worse but everyone’s pretending all is well." It's like when my wife says she’s "working on herself" but is actually just going on another date with my therapist. Well, at least she's saving us money on copays, and the doc is getting really liberal with the Xanax prescriptions; silver linings, am I right? In any case, this is going to be a bit of a glorified semi-cohesive listicle of my ramblings. 

Let's start with the airline industry, those pioneers of making less feel like more-expensive less. Since 2019, the average number of flight attendants per aircraft has dropped by 25% while ticket prices soared 40%. American Airlines went from offering eight beverage services on cross-country flights to just two in 2023. The only thing more dehydrated than the passengers is the concern for customer satisfaction.

Delta removed 400 aircraft toilets between 2019 and 2023 to squeeze in more seats, creating what I call the "bladder class" experience. Meanwhile, their basic economy tickets now make Spirit Airlines look like Emirates first class. Speaking of Spirit, they've managed to make their seats recline even less, which I didn't think was physically possible; they're challenging the laws of physics while ignoring the laws of human dignity.

The hotel industry has mastered their own version of this disappearing act. Marriott and Hilton both introduced "optional housekeeping" in 2021, which is corporate speak for "we fired half our cleaning staff." The average hotel room now gets a deep clean every 3.5 days instead of daily.  At the places I can afford, I'm pretty sure my stays are skewing that average higher -- pulling the curve to the right with every unwashed towel and stray curly hair I find in the shower. At the same time, room rates have jumped 54% since 2019. That continental breakfast buffet? Holiday Inn Express cut their breakfast options from 47 items to 23 in 2023. The buffet now has exciting options like plastic-wrapped danishes that would make my friends in Copenhagen vomit, a thrilling selection of coffees: regular or decaf, or bagels so dense they could anchor the trash barge they will soon be filling.

The banking sector has turned skimpflation into an art form. In 2023, U.S. banks closed 3,000 branches while increasing service fees by an average of 25%. Additionally, BofA, Citigroup, and Wells Fargo have reduced their employee numbers by over 20,000 in the last year alone. My local branch now has more ATMs than employees, and the only human left is a beleaguered 50 year-old lady named Linda who has the thousand yard stare of a Vietnam vet who's seen unimaginable atrocities. But instead of fighting off Charlie in the Mekong Delta, she's trading fire with Karens who have all the time in the world and absolutely nothing better to do than rain down their own version of napalm regarding bank policies that Linda has nothing to do with; although being directed to use the app when I go into a brick-and-mortar branch is particularly infuriating.

And the retail apocalypse ushered in by Amazon and the like is not just about stores closing – it's about the complete abandonment of actual service. Major retailers cut their in-store staff by 38% since 2019 while installing 56% more self-checkout kiosks. Target alone eliminated 9,000 positions in 2023. Now, if you want to find help, you need to become part of the tribe—a loosely organized group of shoppers banded together for survival, roaming the aisles in search of an employee. Their leader, armed with a barcode scanner like it's an ancient relic of power, surveys the desolation. 'We head for the electronics section at dawn,' she declares. 'If the legends are true, that’s where they keep the last of the employees. But beware—some say the customer service desk is just a mirage.' Another surefire way to find an employee is when you're trying to sneak out without buying anything – suddenly they materialize like the holy spirit in me after a few extra chugs of the communion wine, armed with credit card applications and loyalty program pitches.

Healthcare might be the most painful example. Average doctor's visit times have dropped from 18 minutes in 2018 to just 13 minutes in 2023. My last appointment lasted seven minutes, and that includes the time my doctor spent fighting with his electronic health records system that still runs on Windows 95. Insurance companies now require pre-authorization for 31% more procedures than in 2019, while simultaneously cutting their customer service staff by 40%. Nothing says "we care" quite like being put on hold for two hours to get permission for an MRI while your shoulder makes sounds like a cement mixer full of Legos.

Fast food chains have embraced skimpflation with the enthusiasm of a toddler hearing Baby Shark; giddily dancing to the point of spitting up on themselves. McDonald's average drive-thru wait times increased by 45 seconds in 2023 alone, while their burger patties somehow got thinner than my patience. A study found that major fast-food chains reduced portion sizes by an average of 15% since 2019 while prices increased by 23%. The only thing being "super-sized" anymore is profit.

Tech support has devolved into a Kafkaesque nightmare. Dell reduced their U.S.-based support staff by 35% in 2022 while increasing their reliance on chatbots by 80%. I spent three hours trying to explain to an AI named "Sarah" why my laptop making sounds like a dying whale might be concerning. Her solution? "Have you tried turning it off and on again?" No, I've been sitting here gently whispering encouragement to her – and, yes, my computer is a lady. Asking if I know to restart a computer to see if it resolves a problem is like asking, "having you tried poppers?" when I mention that I need to spruce up my Friday night. It's like, "Yeah, way ahead of ya."

The education sector hasn't escaped either. Universities increased tuition by an average of 3.7% in 2023 while cutting faculty by 5% and moving 40% more classes online. My cousin's paying $50,000 a year to watch his professor's forehead on Zoom while the audio cuts out every time something important is said. He's currently double majoring in the art of lip reading and creative profanity.

Modern gyms have perfected the art of charging more for less supervision than a middle school dance. That said, the middle school dance is where I mastered the art of frottery.  And while I'm banned from the New York subway and the London Underground, I am highly revered for my skills on the Tokyo metro.

But, Planet Fitness eliminated 30% of their staff due to having "upgraded" to a "self-service model," which means they fired everyone except some dude, who shows up occasionally to make sure nobody's actually using the equipment. "It lasts longer that way," They've replaced personal trainers with QR codes that link to YouTube videos from 2016, and the only thing getting a workout is my thumbs and my will to live.

Public spaces have taken a hit too. Municipal parks budgets were cut by an average of 15% nationwide in 2023, while usage increased by 30%. The local park's "self-guided experience" is code for "good luck finding a bathroom that doesn't look like a crime scene." Even the water fountains have given up – they're either perpetually "under maintenance" or shooting water with all the enthusiasm of a kinked garden hose.

Restaurant portion sizes have shrunk faster than my enthusiasm for modern life . A study of major casual dining chains found that pasta portions decreased by 20% since 2019, while prices increased by 27%. My favorite Italian place now serves what they call a "curated portion" of fettuccine alfredo. Curated by whom? I suspect its a miserly corporate goon who wants us to believe that this slop of noodles drenched in what they claim is marinara is channeling an authentic experience. The only thing authentic about this charade is the disappointment my Italian grandmother would feel if she saw it; I can only thank the good lord that the diabetes took care of that, and six of her toes. But the pedicure place still somehow charges her full price.

Food delivery apps have turned getting dinner into a psychological thriller. DoorDash's average delivery fees increased by 43% since 2021, while their "estimated delivery times" have windows wider than the cable installation guy. Your $12 burger somehow costs $35 after fees, and the driver's GPS apparently thinks my house, who am I kidding, apartment is on Easter Island. By the time my food arrives, it's aged enough to vote and my fries are better traveled than I so of course they insist on pronouncing it Barthelona. The apps call it "dynamic pricing," which is corporate speak for "we saw you were hungry and decided to exploit that."

The most insidious part? Companies market this degradation as an improvement; like how my degenerative spine condition all but assures me a front-row parking space wherever I go! "We're enhancing your experience!" they cry, while removing every aspect that made it an experience worth having. It's like being told the emperor's new clothes are actually a premium minimalist fashion statement, and they've mysteriously but impressively managed to attach a price tag to the invisible fabric.

So what can we do about it? Besides firing up the flux capacitor to go back to when service meant something, our options are limited. We can complain, but that just gets us another automated response about how our feedback is valuable while they continue to value it about as much as the wider YouTube community values my rants.

The best we can do is stay aware and call it out when we see it. Vote with our wallets when we can, and do your best to remember that when companies say they're "enhancing our experience," what they likely mean is they're enhancing their profit margins at the expense of our sanity.

And that, as they say, is that. This has been your Waist-Deep Dive into skimpflation, where the service is bad but the price is worse. I'm Donovan, signing off to go argue with my bank's chatbot about why my account shows a negative balance. Apparently, they've enhanced that feature too.

Take care of yourselves, and others, and remember – if the service seems worse than you recall, it's not just nostalgia talking. It actually is worse, and they're charging you more for the privilege. See you next time!

Deep Dives In the Shallow End