Over the last ten years, the way companies set prices has undergone a quiet but profound transformation. According to consumer advocate Lindsay Owens, the result is that shoppers are increasingly being charged deliberately inflated prices — often without ever realizing it. Owens, who leads the advocacy group Groundwork Collaborative, argues that the pricing tactics once used by businesses have been reinvented and amplified by modern technology. "What we're seeing is Big Tech reinventing the rip-off," she says. "These are old tricks, but they've been supercharged by new technologies." Her new book, "Gouged: The End of a Fair Price — And What That Means for Your Wallet," published in September, examines these hidden schemes and offers practical guidance for consumers who want to protect themselves.
The shift is not limited to a single industry. Hotels, for instance, now generate room rates based on where a customer is located, a practice that can mean two travelers see entirely different prices for the same stay. Airlines have begun using browsing data to calculate the cost of airfare, meaning the fare you see may depend on your online behavior. Grocery stores are deploying technology to test how much they can charge customers before those customers balk. Each of these examples points to a broader trend: prices are no longer fixed or uniform, and they are increasingly tailored to the individual.
At the heart of this transformation is a practice Owens calls personalized pricing. "The most egregious way is personalized pricing," she explains. Retailers "collect data on you to better ascertain how much they can charge you." That data includes browsing history, demographic information, and records of past purchases. Companies then use algorithms to run pricing experiments on consumers, testing different price points to discover the maximum amount each shopper might be willing to pay. In effect, the price tag becomes a moving target, adjusted for the individual rather than set by a shelf label or a posted rate.
For consumers, the consequences are significant. Because these pricing strategies are largely invisible, shoppers often have no way of knowing whether they are being offered a fair deal or a marked-up one. A traveler who searches for a flight on one device may be quoted a higher fare than someone searching on another. A grocery customer may be charged more based on a profile built from years of purchasing data. The asymmetry of information — companies know far more about shoppers than shoppers know about pricing — leaves consumers at a distinct disadvantage.
Yet Owens believes there are steps people can take to push back. A central piece of her advice involves covering your digital trail so that retailers have a harder time tracking you and selling to you at personalized prices. By reducing the data available to companies, shoppers can make it more difficult for algorithms to determine precisely how much they can be charged. The goal is not necessarily to use every technique for every purchase — Owens acknowledges that a shopper may not bother with elaborate precautions for a small item like a pair of shoes — but to apply them when the stakes are high.
Expensive purchases are where these protections matter most. Airfare is a prime example. Because airlines may use browsing data to set prices, the cost of a ticket can shift depending on how and when a customer searches. For a purchase that can run into hundreds or even thousands of dollars, the difference between a personalized price and a fair one can be substantial. Owens suggests that consumers reserve their most careful tactics for these bigger transactions, where the potential savings justify the extra effort.
The rise of algorithmic pricing also raises broader questions about fairness and transparency. When prices are set by experiments rather than by visible costs or competition, it becomes difficult for consumers to comparison-shop in any meaningful way. Two people can look at the same product and see two different numbers, with no clear explanation for the gap. Owens's book aims to expose these practices, which she says corporations try to keep hidden, and to give readers the tools to recognize when they are being overcharged.
Understanding the mechanics of personalized pricing is the first step toward resisting it. Companies rely on a steady stream of data — what you browse, what you buy, where you live, and who you are — to build a profile that predicts your willingness to pay. The more complete that profile, the more precisely a company can target its prices. Cutting off that flow of information, even partially, disrupts the process and can lead to more standard, less exploitative pricing.
Owens's advice is ultimately about awareness as much as action. She encourages shoppers to recognize that the price they see is not necessarily the price everyone sees, and that the difference is often the product of deliberate design rather than random variation. That awareness can change how people approach everything from booking a flight to buying groceries, prompting them to question quotes and seek alternatives rather than accepting the first number presented.
The stakes extend beyond individual wallets. If personalized pricing becomes the norm, it could erode the very idea of a fair price — a common benchmark that allows consumers to judge value and compare offers. Owens's title captures this concern directly: "The End of a Fair Price." When every shopper is charged according to what an algorithm believes they will tolerate, the shared understanding of what something is worth begins to break down.
For now, consumers are not powerless. The techniques Owens outlines offer a pragmatic response to a system designed to extract as much as possible from each buyer. By limiting the data they surrender and being strategic about when to apply extra caution, shoppers can reclaim some leverage. The most important takeaway is that the burden of vigilance now falls on the consumer — and that, according to Owens, is exactly what the companies behind these schemes are counting on.
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