Earlier this year, John, a seasoned professional with a major firm, decided it was time for a leap. The stock market had been climbing steadily, financial headlines were full of optimism, and investor sentiment seemed to signal a revitalised economy. And John was getting increasingly tired of feeling left out. So, convinced that growth had returned, he left his stable job to join a consumer–facing start‑up.

Six weeks later, John was unemployed.

The start‑up’s sales projections were built on an assumed rebound in household demand, but real personal consumption expenditures had stalled. Delinquency rates on credit‑card loans were climbing toward the highest level recorded since the early 2020s, and unemployment‑insurance claims had been trending upward since April. Meanwhile, corporate profits after tax had registered their first significant drop in more than two years, and real exports had flattened.

John’s decision was shaped by a popular narrative: when equities rise, the economy must be healthy. That narrative is both persistent and dangerous.

At first, I laughed.

The idea that a grocery store cake could spark a viral meltdown felt like classic internet absurdity. When I read that Whole Foods had quietly altered the recipe of its beloved Berry Chantilly cake, I chuckled at the idea of social media users crying betrayal over a dessert.

Almost immediately, though, I felt something else: inspired. The public outcry worked. Faced with customer backlash, Whole Foods reversed course and reintroduced the original recipe. A multibillion-dollar enterprise had changed direction, not because of lawsuits or legislation, but because regular people noticed a change they weren’t okay with and refused to let it slide. That’s no small thing.

But then, I got annoyed.

For this wasn’t just about cake. It wasn’t even just about Whole Foods. Rather, it offers a glimpse into how even the most well-resourced firms quietly probe the limits of what they can impose on consumers. Instead of increasing prices outright, they shrink portions, substitute ingredients and skimp on quality. In this case, the shelf price stayed fixed despite higher berry costs and stronger demand; the company simply degraded the recipe and counted on customers failing to notice.