15 August—The not-really-news today is that a half-gallon of Tropicana “not from concentrate” (NFC) orange juice now contains 46 ounces, down from 52, which was reduced in 2018 from 59, which had been shrunk from 64 in 2010, just as Generation Alpha was being conceived. As Percy Shelley wrote in “Ode to Shrinkflation” just over two centuries ago, “If Tropicana shrinks, can the others be far behind?”

So expect to find the contents of all the other brands of “not from concentrate” juice containers similarly reduced in volume in the very, very near future. And don’t expect anything different from the “from concentrate” and frozen concentrate juices.

Is it corporate collusion or just good old-fashioned capitalism—i.e., greed—in action? Does it matter? The bottom line is that the consumer—low man on the totem pole, bottom of the food chain—gets screwed.

As a point of information, the Pepsi Cola people (PepsiCo) had owned all of the Tropicana brand since 1998, but sold 61 percent of it, along with other juice brands (including Naked juices and smoothies), to PAI Partners, a French—you guessed it—private equity fund in 2021.

Pepsico CEO Ramon Laguarta rationalized at the time that the sale “will free us to concentrate on our current portfolio of diverse offerings, including growing our portfolio of healthier snacks, zero-calorie beverages, and products like SodaStream which are focused on being better for people and the planet.”

Perhaps, but for starters, what’s healthier than unadulterated orange juice? Problem is that sales of fruit juices were flagging throughout the industry in 2021 and still are. And you’ll find a paucity of any brand of zero-calorie beverages on the Litchfield Stop & Shop shelves. Evidently people need their sugar fix.

And evidently SodaStream isn’t doing all that well either. It’s a grossly overpriced home carbonation contraption, made in Israel, that gives you a glass of two-cents-plain—seltzer—for not that much less than you can buy it in a can or bottle. And more bother. (One of those gadgets—not a SodaStream, mind you, but one I picked up at a salvage sale—has, after a use or two, been languishing in a corner cupboard for three decades, along with a supply of CO2 cartridges.)

Back to shrinkflation, then, remember when a half-gallon of ice cream worked its way down to 48 ounces, a quart-and-a-half? Well, that’s already shrunk to 46 ounces in some brands. And a pound can of dog food was, last I checked, 13 or even 11 ounces. A pint of some brands of salad dressing is 15 fluid ounces. A two-quart jar of mayonnaise contains 30 fluid ounces. A three-pound tub of margarine weighs 45 ounces.

Of course, Procter & Gamble started reducing the size of Charmin toilet paper rolls all the way back in the 1970s. Don’t be surprised if before long a roll of Charmin consists of one square sheet. Okay, maybe two sheets.

It’s funny that the manufacturers claim to reduce product size in order to keep the price down, but they raise the price anyway. And top corporate executives are doing better than ever.

Capitalism in action . . .