You know what really frosts my flakes?
The price of soda refills.
Or more specifically, convenience stores acting like they’re pouring liquid gold into a cup I have been re-using over and over for a month.
I drink lots of Diet Dr Pepper. It’s been a lifelong addiction.
For years, one of the great bargains of American travel was the fountain drink refill. You brought your own cup, filled it yourself and paid a reasonable price because the store didn’t have to provide a cup, lid or labor to produce it.
Apparently, those days are disappearing.
My regular QuikTrip in Arizona just raised the price to $1.74, including tax, to refill my 52-ounce plastic cup.
Now, $1.74 isn’t going to force me into bankruptcy. But I started wondering: What does the stuff coming out of that fountain actually cost? So I looked it up.
WebstaurantStore.com sells five-gallon boxes of commercial fountain syrup for $53.49 each when buying 16 or more. The syrup mixes at a ratio of one part syrup to five parts carbonated water and produces about 30 gallons of finished soda per box.
That works out to about $1.78 per gallon, or roughly 1.4 cents per ounce, for the finished beverage based on the syrup cost.
And that’s a price published online for businesses. I suspect gigantic convenience store chains buying oceans of the stuff negotiate their own contracts.
Then there’s the carbonation and ice, which add relatively little to the cost. And remember, when I put ice in a 52-ounce cup, I’m not getting 52 ounces of soda. Every ice cube displaces some liquid.
The whole thing gets even stranger when I travel because apparently nobody can agree on what a refill actually is.
At Love’s Travel Stops, I recently discovered they no longer allow people to refill a plastic cup. I was told they were “losing money” on refills, even though they were charging me $1.96.
However, I could still get the refill price if I used a metal Love’s cup. Huh?
I’m bringing my own cup, filling it with ice myself and dispensing the drink by myself. Where exactly is this massive financial loss taking place?
Then there’s Circle K. I truly have no idea what a refill costs at Circle K. Apparently, neither does Circle K.
Depending upon the store, the day of the week, who is working behind the counter and the alignment of Jupiter with Mars, I’ve paid anywhere from $1.10 to $1.76 for exactly the same refill.
I half expect the clerk to pull out a Magic 8 Ball. “How much are refills today?”
Then we have Buc-ee’s, which requires a washable cup to qualify for a refill.
Okay. That sounds reasonable. Except apparently a stackable plastic cup doesn’t count as washable. Never mind that I have somehow managed to wash it dozens of times without calling in a professional cleaning crew.
So, if I want soda at Buc-ee’s, I’m supposed to take one of their disposable Styrofoam cups, fill THAT with soda and then dump the soda into my own plastic cup when I get to my car. Why?
In the name of whatever policy we’re supposedly enforcing, we’re taking a perfectly reusable plastic cup and adding a disposable Styrofoam cup to the process.
Buc-ee must be trying to save the planet one unnecessary Styrofoam cup at a time.
At least Kwik Trip in the Midwest gives me something in return. They charge $1.74 for my refill, too, but their rewards program gives customers a free fountain drink after 15 visits.
So after buying 15 refills, I can celebrate by getting number 16 free.
That’s almost enough to make me forget I’m bringing the cup, providing the labor and standing there patiently while 52 ounces of Diet Dr Pepper dribbles out of the soda fountain, when it’s working.
I understand convenience stores have expenses.
They have employees, electricity, rent, equipment, maintenance and credit-card fees. They’re entitled to make a profit. I’m not suggesting they sell soda for a quarter.
But this is a REFILL. I’m doing 100% of the labor and the store is providing syrup, carbonated water and ice.
Yet, somehow we’ve reached a point where some convenience stores charge customers nearly TWO DOLLARS to refill a cup the customers already own.
I’m Grandpa Grumpy, and I’m starting to think the most expensive ingredient in a fountain drink isn’t the syrup. It’s the word “convenience.”