Shrinkflation

by Donna Poole

I have thousands of them.

Half a century ago, I started copying on three by five cards quotes from books I was reading. I did this for many years, stopped, and recently started again. Something is different this time. My handwriting is wobbly now, looks like an old lady’s scrawl, and I can’t imagine why. But something else is different too.

“John, feel this.” I handed my husband an old three by five card I’d written a quote on many years ago.

“Now feel this.” I gave him a newborn three by five, baby-fresh from its package.

The old card was thick, sturdy, dependable; something made to last half a century.

The new card is a lightweight piece of junk. I don’t know how long it will survive being pulled out and pushed into its place in my antique card file cabinet.

This small irritation, during all the world’s enormous crises, bugged me. It was like a tiny mosquito buzzing around my ear and refusing to be swatted. So, I asked Siri and Safari why three by five cards are thinner now, and when they shrugged and yawned, I went to know-it-all Google. Eureka! I found I was not alone in my angst. Others have noticed and commented too, not just on the decline in quality of the humble index card, but also in construction paper, and many other things too.

It seems in many ways we’re paying more but getting less for our buck. There’s even a word for what’s happening, “Shrinkflation.”

“It kind of feels like you’ve been had.” So says Professor Hitendra Chaturvedi from Arizona State University when commenting on shrinkflation.

No “kinda” about it, Prof. We’ve been had alright!

Shrinkflation: Put less in the package but charge the consumer the same amount of money or even more.

Shrinkflation: make index cards almost as thin as notebook paper.

The consumer won’t notice.

I sympathize with manufacturers’ dilemmas; raw materials cost more. Way more. But I resent their assumption that the average consumer won’t notice there’s five to twenty percent less than there used to be inside bags and boxes. I resent even more they were correct; with most products, I didn’t notice.

I read an article listing some of the products included in shrinkflation: Cottenelle, Sun Maid Raisins, Safeguard soap, Keebler’s M & M cookies, GM cereals, and others.

I’ve noticed shrinkflation in something everyone needs that isn’t for sale. We may offer less of ourselves to others after circumstances and people leave us battle scarred and hurt. We put up shields. We become a little less kind and giving. Perhaps we present ourselves as the same package we once were, but there’s less inside. We have no intention of putting ourselves out there for others the way we once did; what if we get hurt again?

Or maybe we aren’t battle scarred and hurt; we’re just weary. Why keep caring and giving when so few others do?

Kindness shrinkflation is everywhere.

In a world that’s growing colder, more callous, and more self-centered, I’m blessed to know so many givers, people who’ve resisted shrinkflation, the way they do at my favorite coffee shop, Pam’s Place.

Pam sets the tone at her place. She opens before most of us wake up every morning, ready to welcome the earliest risers, not just with delicious coffee, but also with a smile and an encouraging word or two. I’ve gotten to know several of her regular customers. It’s a place where people actually connect with each other.

There’s no shrinkflation of kindness at Pam’s Place; it’s everywhere. No one argues. We don’t talk much about politics, except maybe to tease Ken about being in Facebook jail so often. People don’t stay long; we’re all busy. Someone may tell a joke. Someone else may ask for prayer. We stop by, say good morning, grab our coffee, and we’re gone. But the kindness of Pam’s Place lingers for the rest of the day.

Pam’s Place isn’t real. That is, it’s not brick and mortar real. There isn’t even a coffee shop named Pam’s Place; that’s just what I call it.

Pam is real. She’s a Facebook friend I’ve known since high school. Pam does something many would think a little thing. Every morning she finds an attractive photo of coffee cups, adds a few words of encouragement, and posts it on Facebook. Every evening Pam shares a lovely picture and says goodnight. In a world where kindness is shrinking, Pam spends time, every single day, to give a little joy to the people in her world.

Several of us check in with Pam each morning. Chris was a regular; she was a tea drinker, and Pam often had some virtual tea waiting for her. When Chris died of cancer, we stopped by Pam’s page and found comfort from each other. A little thing became a big thing that day.

You don’t have to post on Facebook every morning to add kindness to this hurting world.

At the cancer center where I go many different nurses come to collect patients when it’s time for a treatment. One nurse comes into the large room and sings the patient’s name. It makes me smile, and I’m not the only one who smiles in that room where many are hiding tears.

A text. A phone call. A plate of cookies. A smile. A hand on a shoulder. A prayer. Find your own way to give a little kindness. Little things become big things.

Call me D.P.—not Donna Poole but Dreamer Pollyanna; I can see it now, a world without any shrinkflation of kindness. It could happen too if everyone would just be a Pam.

Meanwhile, while I wait for that to happen, does anyone know where I can buy some decent three by five cards?

The End

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These blogs are now available in book form on Amazon:

Backroad Ramblings Volume One: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Two: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

All my books are available at amazon.com/author/donnapoole