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Do you remember *The Number 23*? It’s a 2007 psychological thriller, starring Jim Carrey. In it, the protagonist, played by Carrey, becomes increasingly obsessed with the 23 enigma, noticing the number, or patterns connected to the number, everywhere in his life.
The digits of his birthday add up to 23. Assigning numbers to the letters of his name equals 23. Soon he begins breaking down license plates, prices on menus, and phone numbers, rearranging them until they add up to the number 23 all while falling deeper into paranoia based on this so-called “evidence.”
I don’t really remember much of the plot beyond the obsession with the number 23. Even so, lately, I’ve been feeling more and more like Jim Carrey’s character.
However, the symptoms of my pattern noticing haven’t resulted in the development of a dark, brooding, fractured psyche. Instead, I’d say they’re manifesting into a sort of hyperaware, *Costanzaesque* exasperated annoyance.
You see, I haven’t suddenly become obsessed with any two-digit number (although that does seem to have been in vogue recently.)
No, I’ve become obsessed with noticing the effects of Private Equity. Everywhere.
For those unfamiliar with these investment firms, they buy, invest in, or take over private companies, often with the stated goal of increasing the value of the acquired firm and then selling it at a profit, usually within 3-7 years.
I won’t get into how they go about increasing the value of the businesses in their portfolio, but suffice to say, it’s usually done using rather rapacious tactics, and by exploiting some of the worst traits of modern capitalism: When they buy veterinary clinics, they [jack up](https://www.cbc.ca/news/marketplace/marketplace-vet-corporate-ownership-1.7438239) the price of treating your pet. When they take over nursing homes, they reduce patient care, [increasing](https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0168851025001435) mortality rates. And if you work for a company that gets bought by one of these firms, you’re immediately at [higher risk](https://pestakeholder.org/private-equity-risks/effects-of-private-equity-investments/) of losing your livelihood.
Fortunately, I haven’t been impacted as dramatically in the ways described above. But they have begun really, really annoying me.
And I know this, because every time something in my life becomes 1% more annoying, like the protagonist in *The Number 23*, or more aptly, George Costanza, I can’t just chalk it up to coincidence and let it go.
The prices went up at the plumbing supply store? Private Equity bought them 24 months ago. They replaced the fresh pastries with frozen ones at the coffee shop? Private equity owns the entire chain. I stubbed my toe this morning? Although I can’t prove it, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was somehow the fault of some guy wearing a Patagonia vest in Miami.
So, in the interest of, I don’t know what exactly, here are some of the most prominent ways these companies have made my slightly less agreeable:
1. They ruined my happy place
This might sound a bit pathetic, but when I was in high school, I got a job at a self-serve Carwash. One of the perks was free Car wash tokens, and quite quickly, I realized how relaxing it could be to leave your phone at home, and spend a few minutes away from it all, absorbed in pressure washing the dirt of your car.
Though I’ve long since left that job, for years, I’ve felt secure knowing that when work gets stressful, my team loses in overtime, or my girlfriend is having a K-drama night with her mom, for only a few dollars, I could forget about everything, if only for half an hour, and escape to my happy place: the self-serve carwash.
Only now I can’t.
PE has been buying up carwashes across North America and “unlocking value.” The result? Instead of carelessly cruising in, it’s now like I’m crossing a military check point to get past the attendant. No, I don’t need the wax, or a 7$ air freshener. No, I don’t need the ultra-wash package, just the basic (which is now 20% more expensive.) And no, I don’t want to download an app, or sign up to a subscription service. This isn’t a tech start up.
2. No more simple business names
These firms keep buying up mom-and-pop shops, “rolling them up” into a bigger conglomerate, and enjoying the economies of scale.
Beyond the negative effects this has on consumers (monopoly pricing power, reducing services in less profitable areas) and employees (They no longer need 10 accounting departments, just 1, here is your pink slip), I’ve also noticed they change the names and logos.
No more Kowalski and Sons HVAC, or Ms. Wilson’s tailoring. No more logos made by someone’s nephew who had a knack for drawing.
Now every company’s name and logo look like some hyper modern sterile data analytics company, and I no longer know what a company does just by seeing their name or logo on a truck or storefront.
3. My friend Brandon is annoying now
Remember your friend from high school that never took notes, was in all the advanced classes, helped everyone with their homework and effortlessly made straight As?
That was my friend Brandon. I ran into him a few months ago. I was sure he was doing something great. Was he curing cancer? Building bridges? Revolutionizing a new industry?
No, none of that. Like a lot of today’s best and brightest, he spends ten hours a day aligning spreadsheets and talking about deal flow. We chatted for a few minutes, and though I can forgive him for using his talents to make a handsome salary, I can’t forgive what a few years in a PE firm has done to his vocabulary. “Synergy,” “Platform Investment,” “White space opportunity.,” “De-risk the exit.” Dude, we’re in a line up for a Costco hotdog and I just asked you what you’ve been up to.
4. They’re somehow making youth sports even MORE unaffordable
Years ago, my best friend opened a barber shop, and the very first thing he did when the shop was financially stable, was to sponsor his local soccer team and pay for their jerseys.
It wasn’t a complicated business decision. There was no ROI consideration. My friend just loves soccer ( perhaps worryingly so when it comes to Messi and the Argentinean national team) and he wanted to support the game locally.
It was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.
Ever since, when I see a business logo on a local sports jersey, I make a point to look it up. Not once have I seen a PE-backed firm sponsor a local team, or support a community run event.
They have, however, started buying up local hockey rinks, banning spectators from filming, and charging parents a subscription fee to get access to game recordings.
5. No more free samples
I’ve never been a fan of shopping, in particular, grocery shopping. I don’t like the lines. I hate the reminder that I have no self-control, whenever I walk by the chip aisle. And lately, I’ve not been so happy about how much I have to spend to get so little.
But I LOVE free samples. It’s one of life’s little pleasures. Mozzarella sticks? Chicken wings? A new line of sweet and sour marinades that I will never buy? Free samples made trips to the grocery store all worth it.
As PE firms have been buying up local grocery stores, local speciality stores, and food distribution businesses, I’ve seen a dramatic decrease in cheerful elderly women offering me pieces of cheese on toothpicks.
For a while, I assumed it was some post-covid by-law, until I got offered a sample of wine at my local liquor store and remembered how much I missed those samples.
Though I can’t prove it, I suspect that the rise of Private Equity, means that some consultant has calculated there is a higher ROI on selling ranch dressing by using coupons or digitally targeted ads than allowing someone a free snack when they shop.
As the old saying goes there are no free lunches”. But for a moment in time, there was a lot of free samples.
6. I can’t wear a vest anymore
I’m not a fashionista. In fact, I have no sense of fashion. But for a while I found vests pretty comfortable and added a little *je ne sais quoi* to my outfits.
Ever since PE firms have begun extracting value in the nursing home, I don’t want to wear one, lest people mistake me for someone who thought that the number of grandparents surviving in long term care homes wasn’t economically optimized.
I concede that a lot of my complaints are banal when it comes to the big picture. The rising inequality, the precariousness of modern jobs, the introduction of the profit motive into many of the services we rely on. That’s all much more concerning than the absence of a free jalapeno popper while I look for the Greek yogurt.
Still, I miss those jalapeno poppers.