Strawberries and the myth of American decline

Beep. Beep… Beep.

I passed the undersized granola, a tin of tuna and something vaguely healthy in a green translucent tub (which my wife swears she loves) over the scanner at my local grocery store. Then came the strawberries - plump, bright red and juicy - in a massive 32lb carton. Normally $8.99, but they were on sale for the unbelievable price of $4.99. Beep!

Time to scan my Ralph’s card. A sadder Beep.

And yet... the strawberries stubbornly stayed at $8.99.

Jorge, the affable, older store employee who mans the self-serve scanners, came over. We'd exchanged pleasantries and a laugh on previous visits, so I expected him to apologise and punch in a few magic codes to revert them to the sale price. But instead, his tanned face hardened.

“I’m sorry, sir, that sale was last week. This is the price now.” 

I decided life was too short to argue over strawberries, but also too short for such mercantile nonsense. I handed the carton back with a polite, “Can’t do it, Jorge.” 

He was about to turn when he paused: “Where does it say they’re on sale, sir?” 

And suddenly, I was overcome by a wave of small-farmer Catholic guilt all the way from the mists of County Mayo. Had I imagined the red ink on the luminous yellow card by the display? Was I hallucinating discounts now?

We walked over to the produce section as a teacher leading an errant student-— the latter also having a quiet existential crisis. With immense relief, I pointed to the sale card on the main display… and another by the cooler unit… and two more by the actual cartons. Jorge began tearing them down one by one, revealing even more identical tags underneath, like some bureaucratic Russian nesting doll.

I met his frustrated gaze with a grin and a smooth, “Someone else might be really angry about this, Jorge.” 

He looked at me for a long moment. 

“Probably,” he wryly replied. “But at least they’d get my name right.” 

The company behind Ralph’s, Kroger, is the second-largest grocery retailer in the US - and it’s been earning a rather unsavoury reputation. The Guardian recently reported that Kroger stores across multiple states had consistently overcharged customers by leaving expired sale tags in place, charging full prices at checkout - a sneaky practice that disproportionately affects struggling families.

The paper suggested (somewhat charitably) that this profiteering is not corporate policy but the result of understaffing. Still, the financial benefit to the company is real and notably the misleading sale tags don’t include expiry dates, leaving consumers in the dark. This practice comes during a period when food prices have surged nearly 24% since 2020, leaving many Americans feeling stressed, anxious, or cheated. As one shopper put it to the paper: “I feel like I’m going to get ripped off at any moment.” 

Paul Warburg is an independent geopolitical analyst and the creator of the popular YouTube channel @PaulJWarburg, where he slowly - and I do mean slowly - unpacks complex international events with clarity, depth and a calm, deliberate cadence that should drive away most attention-challenged viewers. But it works - as evidenced by his 155,000 subscribers.

Often set against the majestic backdrop of distant conifer forests draped over snow-capped mountains - like the windswept combover of an ageing hippie - Warburg speaks directly to camera. No autocue, no graphics, no snazzy inserts. Just one man, one thought at a time. Occasionally, he pauses mid-sentence to glance sideways and gather his thoughts, as a practiced old priest methodically delivers his favourite funeral sermon.

His flagship series, The Icarus Project (163,000 subscribers and growing), delivers plain-language deep-dives into everything from Russia’s demographic collapse to the tangle of global arms trading. His goal is to make geopolitics understandable - and meaningful - for regular people. With over 1,600 Patreon supporters and growing social media visibility, he’s quietly becoming one of the most thoughtful commentators in the online space. Even if I do wish he would hurry the feck up sometimes.

Warburg’s recent video, 'The REAL Reason Americans Feel So Poor (Even When They Aren’t)', posted on April 30 argues that politics is increasingly driven by economic perception rather than reality. Both Democrats and Republicans, he suggests, exploit the public’s ‘feelings’ of poverty to win votes. But Warburg makes a blunt claim: “Perceptions don't always match reality,” noting that “average Americans consistently rank among the world’s wealthiest - and it’s not even close”.

He says the disconnection is generational. Since the post-WWII boom, Americans have grown up expecting each generation to be better off than the last, but that arc was never sustainable. As the rest of the world rebuilt and caught up, the US plateaued. That feeling of regression - real or imagined - has become a potent political weapon, driving everything from reckless economic policies to scapegoating immigrants. Without ever name-checking it, Warburg gently dismantles the idea that America can 'Make Itself Great Again' - at least not economically - without first diagnosing the real problem.

His solution? A change in perspective. Americans should compare their standard of living not just to their parents’, but to the global average - and realise that, in material terms, most are doing relatively well. Warburg reflects on a period when he earned around $30,000 a year working construction in Southern California. He was never hungry, always had shelter, healthcare access, a car and a social life. He lived frugally, yes, but with freedom and dignity. Yet, according to modern America, he was below the poverty line. According to Warburg, he was rich by global standards - and luckier than almost every generation before him.

One of his more revealing observations came while working on multimillion-dollar homes along the California coast. Warburg and his fellow workers noticed a strange trend: the wealthier the homeowners, the grimmer their expressions. They dubbed it: “I’m rich and I’m mad about it.” Every $2 million mansion led to a $3 million build next door, and so on. Wealth had become comparative - and endlessly unsatisfying.

I believe that that same dynamic applies to the cost of living here. The American economic system is designed to promote hyper-consumption, with easy credit, aggressive marketing and a culture that treats people less like citizens and more like endlessly hungry consumers. Back in 2006, President George W. Bush, speaking in the wake of 9/11 and the launch of his ill-fated 'War on Terror', urged Americans to respond by consuming. 

“I encourage you all to go shopping more”, he exhorted.

That moment crystalised a broader truth: when consumption is the primary civic duty, any interruption to the cycle - whether inflation, income inequality, or a missing discount on strawberries - becomes a cause for collective anxiety.

People are stretching themselves more to consume more - to make themselves feel better off than the last generation. Living up to the American Dream of conspicuous consumption in a "throwaway” culture. Every tip, tax, surcharge and sneaky price hike thus adds to a kind of latent, low-grade national stress until, inevitably, someone loses their mind at a supermarket employee over a mispriced carton of fruit in a Ralph’s store.

I just hope their disappointed wife won’t force them to sheepishly return later in the day to ‘beep’ them again… from someone not named Jorge.