Betsy’s Dad
Son Time

Pulp Fiction

There are too many orange juice choices in my supermarket—no pulp, some pulp, lots of pulp, added calcium, and low acid.  But there is no choice about the downsized packages.

The consumer can’t help but notice that the orange juice container has shrunk.  No longer equal in size to the half-gallon milk container that stands next to it on my refrigerator shelf, the carton boldly brags that it has the juice of sixteen oranges. Nothing notes that the last carton I bought boasted the juice of seventeen oranges.

Obviously, the price was not reduced.  Only the container was, insulting the consumer, aka me. To make matters worse, this week I noticed that my breakfast gluten-free bagel was smaller, and like the orange juice, the price had not changed.

So when we went to Costo, I was delighted to see that their four-packs of orange juice still had the sixty-four ounce cartons.

At least until they run out.

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