
⚡You can find this article in video form here.⚡
Welcome to the modern world — a place where coffee is $7, your data is worth more than your paycheck, and everyone’s scamming you… but politely.
This is the wonderfully dystopian universe of normalized scams — the kinds of shady dealings that are so common, so deeply woven into the fabric of everyday life, we just accept them like oxygen or traffic.
I’m not talking about Nigerian princes or sketchy emails from someone claiming to be your long-lost uncle in Uruguay. No, these scams are mainstream. They are hiding in plain sight, and we’ve been trained to love, or at least tolerate them with a smile and a credit card. They have corporate logos, marketing teams, and in some cases, jingles. You know, the real villains.
1. Convenience Fees
Convenience fees are Convenient… for them. You know what’s convenient? Paying online. You know what’s inconvenient? Getting hit with a “convenience fee” for the privilege of not standing in line at a ticket counter like it’s 1999.
Let’s be clear: the internet is faster, cheaper, and easier for the company. Yet somehow, you’re paying extra for saving them money. Isn’t that just… beautiful?
Take concert tickets. You see that sweet $60 ticket price? Click through a few pages and suddenly it’s $91.25 — thanks to a “processing fee,” a “delivery fee,” a “we’re-greedy-and-know-you’ll-still-buy-it fee.”
But that’s a small fee though. You know how much I paid for my Bruce Springsteen concert ticket in Munich? 350Euro. The initial fee, before all the taxes? One hundred and fifty. If that’s not crazy, I don’t know what is.
Even worse: some of these sites charge a “print-at-home” fee. That’s right — you, using your printer, your ink, your electricity — you get to pay them. That’s like cooking your own dinner at a restaurant and still tipping the waiter.
It wasn’t the case for Bruce, they sent me the ticket in the post, but still, 350 was insane.
2. Health Insurance
I like to call it the “We Might Help You, But Also Maybe Not” Subscription.
We pay hundreds (if not thousands) per month for something we hope we never have to use — and if we do use it, we might still end up broke. At least in the US. Europe is a bit more lenient at the ending up broke part.
Health insurance is the original loot box. You spend a fortune every month, and when something finally goes wrong — surprise! — it’s not covered. You didn’t check the correct box, see? You needed the gold-tier, platinum-enhanced, unicorn-blessed plan for that. Again, it’s different in Europe.
But don’t forget the deductibles, copays, coinsurance, out-of-network penalties, and the eternal question: what even is a network, and why is mine always out of it? It’s a masterclass in legalized gambling. You’re betting against your own well-being, and the house always wins.
But don’t worry, at least you get a free annual wellness visit, which is really just a nurse weighing you, asking if you smoke, and sending you home with anxiety and a coupon for a flu shot.
3. Tipping Culture
When did I become everyone’s boss? Remember when tipping was a thank you? A little bonus for good service. Yeah, that’s over. It’s been over for a long time. Now it’s a moral obligation to subsidize someone else’s employer.
You bought a muffin at a counter, and suddenly you’re guilt-tripped into adding 20% to the total because a screen rotated in your direction and three people are watching. You make eye contact, you panic, and boom — you just tipped two dollars to the guy who literally handed you a paper bag. Again, this is happening in the US, not in Europe.
Let’s be clear though: workers deserve better pay. But you know who should provide that? Their bosses. Not you, not me, not your grandma ordering a latte. The worst part? You’re tipping before the service even happens. What are we doing? Pre-ordering gratitude?
Oh, and try not tipping. I once tried not tipping an Uber driver in L.A. He got maaad…
If you try to not tip in a world where everyone else is, you’ll feel like you just kicked a puppy in public. Because this scam doesn’t just drain your wallet — it emotionally blackmails you. Bonus points if they call it a hospitality charge, which somehow goes to neither hospitality nor the staff.
4. Loyalty Programs
You’re the loyal one, and they still treat you like trash. In their mind, nothing says we appreciate you like making you spend $500 to earn a $5 coupon. These schemes are the modern-day equivalent of dangling a carrot on a stick — except the carrot is 1,000 reward points away, and the stick is a never-ending email subscription you can’t escape.
“Earn 1 point for every $2 you spend!” Great. That means you’ll need to spend roughly the GDP of a small country before you qualify for a free sandwich — which, by then, will be half the size and double the price, because of shrinkflation.
And let’s not forget tiers. Because if you spend just enough, you might hit Silver, Gold, or Diamond Elite Super Prime Ultra Status. What does that get you? Usually… a different colored card and the occasional early access to deals you weren’t going to use anyway.
Plus, these programs exist for one main reason: data harvesting. They track everything — when you shop, what you buy, how often you cave to buying that third Frappuccino on a Wednesday. In return, they feed you offers so specifically tailored that it’s creepy enough to make your FBI agent blush.
You’re not a valued customer. You’re a statistic in a database. And the only thing you’re truly loyal to is the illusion that you’re winning.
5. Shrinkflation
Less product, same price, more lies.
Shrinkflation is the corporate magician’s trick where you get less of something while paying the same or more, and nobody says a word because the box looks the same size.
You open that bag of chips. It’s 70% air. You buy a family size bar of chocolate and find out your family is apparently one toddler. Your favorite soap used to last a month, now it’s mysteriously melting in a week. Must be the humidity, right? Nope. It’s just the slow erosion of value, repackaged as business strategy.
And they don’t even tell you. No “Dear Customer, we’ve decided to screw you just a little more this quarter.” Just quietly redesigned packaging and smaller portions, like a breakup text written in calories.
If you do complain they’ll explain that costs are up, margins are thin, and they appreciate your understanding. That’s corporate for: “We can get away with it, so we did.”
BONUS SCAM: Subscriptions You Forgot You Had (and They Hope You Never Cancel)
You signed up for that free trial. One month later? Boom — you’re paying $9.99/month for Premium Plus Ultra Max Streaming and haven’t used it since February 2022. They make cancelling harder than escaping a cult. Hidden menus, vague language, 7-step processes, and don’t even think about calling — you’ll die of old age before someone picks up.
And those gym memberships? Legally binding pacts with Beelzebub. Even if you move 600 miles away, you’ll still be getting billed. You need to cancel in person. With a notary. On a full moon. During Mercury retrograde.
So… why do we tolerate this? Because these scams are wrapped in layers of social expectation, legal loopholes, and marketing glitter. They’re normalized. Institutionalized. Monetized.
We’re not just tolerating them — we’ve been trained to defend them.
Question a convenience fee and someone will say “Well, that’s just how it is.” Challenge tipping culture and you’re a monster. Complain about college debt and you’ll hear “It’s an investment in your future.”
It’s like being gaslit by capitalism. Over and over. Until you just… stop noticing.
The Takeaway: Recognize the Scam, Laugh, and Push Back
Here’s the good news: once you see the scam, you can’t unsee it. And while we might not be able to dismantle these systems overnight, we can at least stop pretending they’re normal.
We can vote with our dollars, speak up, and call them what they are: corporate pickpocketing with a smile. So the next time you get charged a “digital access fee” or tip twenty 25% for someone handing you a napkin, just know — you’re not crazy.
You’re just living in a reality where scams wear suits and have customer service departments.
Always keep in mind: if something feels like a scam… it probably is.
smart phones are the ultimate scam, exorbitantly expensive because phones are a symbol of luxury/coolness, and then there is the monthly fee and listening to you, maybe even while you are having sex, who knows, the best all the data they collect and sell and resell, which annoyingly one is subjected to solicitations after you have spoken about needing a new pair of gym shoes. I have a Lightphone and I don't do that shit mentioned above, not tracked, not spied upon, not listen to, no keeping of my date to sell: freedom.