The internet is buzzing again with another supermarket pricing controversy, this time involving a yellow ticket at Coles that’s causing quite a stir. Looking at the heated discussions online, it’s fascinating how a simple shelf tag can generate such passionate debate.

Let’s be real here - our major supermarkets aren’t exactly winning popularity contests lately. With grocery prices continuing to climb, many of us are feeling the pinch every time we do our weekly shop. Walking through my local supermarket near Brunswick Street yesterday, I noticed prices had crept up yet again on several staples.

Remember when Netflix was the golden child of entertainment? For a measly eight bucks a month, we had access to virtually everything worth watching. Those days feel like ancient history now, replaced by a fragmented, overpriced mess that’s beginning to make the old cable monopolies look reasonable by comparison.

The recent news about Americans spending less on streaming services isn’t surprising – it’s the inevitable result of corporate greed destroying what was once a revolutionary service model. What started as a simple, user-friendly way to watch content has devolved into a byzantine maze of subscriptions, each demanding their pound of flesh while offering less and less value.

Remember installing a new game, gathering friends for a LAN party, and knowing that your purchase would last forever? Those days feel increasingly distant as modern gaming shifts towards “live service” models that can vanish at a publisher’s whim.

The “Stop Killing Games” movement has caught my attention lately, particularly as someone who still has a dusty collection of 90s PC games that work perfectly fine today. This European citizens’ initiative aims to protect consumer rights by requiring publishers to provide ways for players to keep their games running after official support ends.

The automotive industry’s hypocrisy regarding consumer privacy has reached new heights, prompting a rare bipartisan response from US senators. While these companies zealously guard their repair monopolies under the pretense of “protecting consumer privacy,” they’re simultaneously selling our personal data to insurance companies and other third parties without batting an eye.

Living in a car-dependent outer suburb of Melbourne, I’ve experienced firsthand the frustration of dealing with manufacturer-authorized service centers. Last month, my daughter’s first car - a modest Japanese hatchback - needed repairs. The quote from the authorized dealer was eye-watering, nearly triple what my local mechanic estimated. But thanks to manufacturer restrictions, the local workshop couldn’t access the necessary diagnostic tools.

The recent Tesla recall of 700,000 vehicles for a tire pressure monitoring issue has sparked an interesting debate about what constitutes a “recall” in our increasingly software-driven world. While traditional recalls often meant bringing your vehicle to a dealership for hardware fixes, Tesla’s solution is a simple over-the-air software update that most owners will barely notice.

Working in software development, I find it fascinating how the automotive industry is grappling with this shift. The term “recall” carries heavy implications of faulty hardware and safety risks, yet here we have an issue that’s more akin to a smartphone app update. The specific problem - the tire pressure warning potentially not persisting after a system reboot - is certainly worth addressing, but hardly the kind of critical safety concern that traditionally prompted recalls.

Walking through the aisles of Woolworths yesterday, I nearly dropped my basket when I spotted the price of eggs. Over $10 for a dozen free-range jumbo eggs? The price hikes have become so outrageous that shopping for basics feels like luxury shopping these days.

Remember when a block of chocolate was a cheap treat? Now it’s practically an investment decision. The Belgian dark chocolate that used to cost $2.90 is pushing $4, and don’t even get me started on the premium brands. Some are claiming there’s a global cocoa shortage, with prices tripling from $3,000 to $10,000 USD per tonne. Fair enough, but we all know these prices won’t come down even when supply improves.

The breaking point came yesterday at a café in Landsborough. $28 for a toastie and coffee. That’s the moment when all the frustrations about rising costs crystallized into something that couldn’t be ignored anymore. When did we normalize these prices? When did we start accepting this as our new reality?

Looking at my household expenses over the past couple of years paints a grim picture. Home insurance premiums jumped 60% in two years, forcing me to switch providers. Now I’m switching again because they’ve tacked on another 24% increase. The weekly grocery bill that used to hover around $280 during COVID now regularly exceeds $400. And don’t get me started on electricity bills – each quarter brings a fresh wave of sticker shock.

Something’s been bothering me lately, and it’s those sneaky little surcharges that keep popping up on bank statements but are nowhere to be found on receipts. The other day, while grabbing a ridiculously overpriced $7 croissant at a local café, I noticed my bank statement showed $14.61 when my receipt clearly stated $14.50.

Sure, it’s just 11 cents, but it’s the principle that matters. This kind of discrepancy isn’t just annoying - it’s potentially illegal. Tax invoices are supposed to reflect the exact amount paid, including any surcharges. That’s not just my opinion; it’s what the ATO requires.

The cost of groceries has become a hot topic around every dinner table lately. Walking through my local Coles in Brunswick this morning, I noticed the price of my favourite Greek yoghurt had jumped again. It’s the same story we’re all living through - watching prices climb while our wages seem to stand still.

But here’s something interesting I’ve discovered: these price fluctuations aren’t as random as they appear. Some clever tech-savvy shoppers have developed browser extensions that track price patterns at both Coles and Woolworths. These tools reveal exactly how our major supermarkets manipulate their pricing, and the patterns are surprisingly predictable.

The shopping landscape in Australia is constantly evolving, and this week’s hot topic among bargain hunters is the apparent closure of a much-loved loophole in the Woolworths Everyday Extra program. The days of double-dipping that sweet 10% discount both online and in-store appear to be numbered.

Remember when we could place a hefty online order with our Extra discount, then stroll into the store a few days later for another discounted shop? Those were the days. The unofficial double-discount wasn’t technically meant to happen, but it was one of those little wins that helped ease the sting of rising grocery prices.

Looking at the brewing storm around Trump’s proposed tariffs on electronics, I can’t help but feel a mix of frustration and déjà vu. My teenage son and I were just discussing upgrading his gaming setup next year, but these plans might need some serious reconsideration.

The proposed 60% tariff on electronics isn’t just another political headline - it’s going to hit close to home for millions of households. From gaming consoles to monitors, the impact will ripple through the entire tech ecosystem. What’s particularly maddening is how we’ve been down this road before.

The weekly grocery shop has become something of a psychological thriller lately. Standing at the checkout, watching those numbers climb higher and higher, I’m reminded of my old flight simulator sessions - except there’s no landing in sight for these prices.

Last night’s shop at my local Woolies left me properly gobsmacked. A handful of basics - some fruit, vegetables, and a few pantry items - somehow morphed into a three-figure sum that would have seemed absurd just a year ago. Remember when a leek was just a humble vegetable rather than a luxury item?

Finding out that Tim Tams are cheaper in Japan than at my local Coles has really gotten under my skin today. Not just a little cheaper - we’re talking $1.40 less per packet. Something is seriously wrong when our beloved Aussie biscuits cost more at home than they do after being shipped halfway across the world.

The standard defense of “but shipping costs!” doesn’t hold water anymore. We’re all getting wise to the fact that sea freight is actually one of the cheapest parts of the supply chain. What we’re seeing here is pure price gouging, dressed up in the emperor’s new clothes of “market forces.”