The internet lost its shit over Wendy's 'surge pricing'
I leaned into the premise and got lunch
I saw the shit hit the fan in the morning while I was scrolling LinkedIn. The LinkedIn algorithm had served me a conversation between two tech bros who were talking about a news story from a foodie website. Wendy’s, the fast food chain, planned to introduce “surge pricing.” Basically, AI would change the price of your hamburger, based on market demand. Tech Bro #1 said it was a “gangsta move,” but Tech Bro #2 disagreed. “It’s a baller move,” he wrote.
“That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Christina said.
“So Wendy’s is dead to you?” I asked.
“I’ll miss the baked potatoes.”
Christina left for work, and I went back to the internet shit show. As it turned out, the tech bros and their praise for greedy business models were out of step with, well, everyone. People on social media dunked on Wendy’s by saying the fast food chain would get a “frosty response.” Others called Wendy’s “trash.” On the Today Show, Hoda slammed Wendy’s. Then the internet surfaced this gem:
Meanwhile, the chill people at Chili’s took advantage with their special blend of empathy and snark.
And the monarchists running Burger King’s social media account played the populist card.
The shit show paired nicely with my morning coffee, but then I remembered that I was on deadline. So I closed my browser, said a silent prayer for the poor bastards on the Wendy’s communications team, and dove into my client’s copy.
By the time lunch rolled around, the Wendy’s story had shifted. Wendy’s was back-peddling. Sort of. The Wendy’s comms team insisted that they’d never used the term “surge pricing.” That was true! But the source of the story had been this statement from the Wendy’s CEO:
[We] will begin testing more enhanced features like dynamic pricing and daypart offerings, along with AI-enabled menu changes and suggestive selling.
Of course, a lot of people pointed out that “dynamic pricing” was a euphemism for “surge pricing.” And predictably, the AI angle only added fuel to the fire. Like everyone else on the internet, I didn’t know who to believe. But I was also hungry. So I took $1 million out of petty cash, just in case the rumors were true, and headed for the nearest Wendy’s.
When I got to Wendy’s, alarm bells went off. Literally. There were only two humans working that shift and both had left the fries unattended. But I didn’t mind waiting while the Wendy’s employees unfucked the fryer and dealt with a horn-happy customer at the drive-thru. The extra time gave me a chance to check the menu.
Everything on the menu looked normal. Well, everything except the Baconator and the Loaded Nacho Cheeseburger. But novelty burgers were beside the point. Like Snoop Dogg, my mind was on my money, and my money was on my mind. I only had a million bucks in my pocket, and according to the internet, that might not be enough for a combo meal.
“What can I get you?” the Wendy’s cashier asked.
“A price lock,” I said.
“Huh?”
“I’d like to lock in the price of a chicken sandwich combo meal,” I explained.
“One chicken sandwich combo meal,” she said. “Anything else?”
“No, no. I don’t want a chicken sandwich combo meal. Not yet, anyway. First, I want to lock in the price for a chicken sandwich combo meal.”
The Wendy’s cashier gave me a blank look, so I explained the price lock concept.
“It’s like with mortgages,” I said. “The rates are always changing, so the price of your mortgage can change a lot between when you put in an offer and when you close. I’m worried that the same thing will happen with my chicken sandwich combo.”
The cashier looked at me like I was on drugs—an occupational hazard when you lean into an absurd premise. So I explained the internet shit show.
“That’s dumb,” she said.
“That’s what my wife said!”
“Your wife is smart. So… do you want the chicken sandwich combo, or not?”
“How much is it?”
The cashier rang up the order. It came out to twelve bucks and change. I reached for my wallet, but hesitated.
“You’ll honor that price?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m not going to get home and discover that there’s a surcharge, am I? I don’t like surprises. Tell me I’m not gonna see a surcharge for twenty million bucks for this chicken sandwich combo.”
“No, sir, that won’t happen.”
“Pinky-swear?”
I stuck out my pinky and reached across the counter, but the cashier didn’t return the gesture. Something about the health code.
“Cash or card, sir?”
Normally, I’d use my card to get the airline miles. But all I had was the cashier’s word. I believed her, but I didn’t trust the surge-pricing enthusiasts at Wendy’s corporate. Better to pay cash, I thought. Keep this chicken sandwich transaction anonymous. So, I handed the cashier a picture of Andrew Jackson, and she handed me lunch.
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Stick around and chat!
You know the drill. I’ve got questions, you’ve got answers.
Wendy’s had to know that this would turn into a shit show, right? Explain.
What do you order at Wendy’s? Dish!
If I rolled out surge-pricing by charging more for popular stories, would I make enough money to buy a Wendy’s franchise? Be honest, I can take it.
Why don’t other fast food chains sell baked potatoes? Wrong answers only!
Should I try the Baconator or the Loaded Nacho Cheeseburger and report back?
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Way back in the pre-Cambrian era, I worked at Risk Management magazine on the heels of the Enron and Worldcom scandals. We ran a story about some research that suggested commodity trading, as a profession, was especially attractive to sociopaths. We got a lot hate mail from socoiopathic commodity traders on that one.
Today’s tech bros, really aren’t much different than those Enron-era commodity traders. Their business rewards sociopathy, which is why they can see something like surge pricing for food and think it’s a good idea. What they don’t understand is that among other things, all businesses require a social license to operate. Surge pricing for food isn’t illegal, but it revokes your social license, just like suggesting people eat cereal for breakfast. We shouldn’t be surprised Wendy’s pulled this - the three guys who own the vast majority of the company are essentially bankers cosplaying as restauranteurs. I doubt they could tell you ten of their own menu items off the tops of their heads.
$12+ for a chicken sandwich, drink and fries? I know I haven’t eaten fast food (except Chipotle) in years but that is insane!