How My Air Fryer Proves the Economy Is Rigged

It started innocuously enough: I bought an Air Fryer. A simple, sleek, black-and-stainless-steel marvel that promised to deliver the crispiness of deep-fried chicken without the existential dread of cardiovascular collapse. Little did I know that this $129.99 countertop miracle would become the Rosetta Stone of my understanding of the modern economy.

Let me be clear: this is not clickbait. My air fryer has revealed to me, with shocking clarity, that the economy is rigged. I can’t be certain whether it’s rigged against me personally, humanity broadly, or just people who refuse to read manuals, but the signs are unmistakable.

Step One: The Price Paradox

Consider the price. $129.99 is neither $130 nor $129—it is, somehow, the perfect number to make you feel like you’re getting a deal while simultaneously losing a small, non-refundable portion of your dignity. This is classic economic trickery. The decimal deceit alone is enough to prove that we are being manipulated by forces so subtle, so nefarious, that even Adam Smith himself would be shaking his head.

Then, of course, I noticed the “pro” in the name: Air Fryer Pro. Pro implies expertise, mastery, and perhaps a secret knowledge that the average citizen cannot comprehend. Yet, upon inspection, it requires approximately 17 button presses and a PhD in User Interface Design just to reheat leftover pizza. My ineptitude at navigating the interface is statistically irrelevant, but it is certainly proof that the manufacturers are in collusion with economists to make me feel small, thereby perpetuating the illusion of scarcity and the illusion of skill.

Step Two: Energy Consumption and Inflation

When I plugged it in, the display lit up like a tiny Times Square billboard, heralding the imminent arrival of my golden fries. But what it didn’t tell me was that this act alone contributes to global energy consumption, micro-level inflation, and, most importantly, my own mounting guilt.

If one air fryer can consume approximately 0.001 percent of my home’s electricity in a week, imagine the macroeconomic implications if everyone owned an Air Fryer Pro. The utility companies would laugh all the way to the bank, economists would nod sagely, and I would sit here in my kitchen, brow furrowed, wondering why my wallet is suddenly lighter while my chicken is crispier. Clearly, this is evidence of systemic manipulation.

Step Three: The Supply Chain Conspiracy

Next, I investigated where my Air Fryer Pro was made. China. Of course. As if the global supply chain weren’t already opaque enough, here lies a perfectly ordinary household appliance, transported thousands of miles, wrapped in a box, and sold at a markup that could fund a small Mars mission. The journey from factory to kitchen is not just a logistical marvel—it is an allegory for the rigged nature of capitalism. If a machine that fries air can navigate international trade routes more efficiently than I can navigate a 5-minute traffic jam, what does that say about me, and by extension, the economic system?

Step Four: The Recipe Book Racket

The Air Fryer Pro came with a 32-page recipe booklet. Each recipe is written in a tone that suggests, “Sure, you could probably make this at home… but you won’t, because you’re a busy, helpless wage slave.” I tried the “Crispy Brussels Sprouts with a Balsamic Reduction” recipe, only to discover that the instructions assumed I already owned an array of obscure spices, a molecular gastronomy kit, and the emotional stability of a TED Talk speaker.

Clearly, this booklet is not just about cooking; it is about keeping me indebted—to the manufacturer, to society, and possibly to my own delusions of culinary competence. It is a microcosm of the economy: endless instructions, hidden fees, and the implicit message that I am not enough.

Step Five: The Social Media Black Hole

No discussion of the Air Fryer Pro is complete without acknowledging the social media dimension. One TikTok video I posted of my perfectly browned sweet potato fries received 1,200 likes and a comment from someone claiming they “finally understand capitalism after watching this.” I was flattered, but also suspicious. How did a simple appliance become a philosophical trigger for millions? Clearly, it is part of the rigged system: the algorithm favors glossy plastic over human dignity, making us all complicit in a global performance art piece about consumption.

Conclusion: The Oven Is Watching

In the end, my Air Fryer Pro is not just a kitchen appliance—it is a mirror reflecting the absurdity, opacity, and outright dishonesty of the modern economy. From price manipulation to supply chain obscurity, from recipe coercion to social media surveillance, it encapsulates all the ways we are subtly—but inexorably—cheated, distracted, and controlled.

So the next time someone asks me why I’m skeptical of Wall Street, inflation reports, or financial advisors, I will simply nod toward my countertop. “It all started with the Air Fryer,” I will say, solemnly, as a tiny digital timer ticks down the last 30 seconds of my crispy, evidence-based chicken nuggets.

If this doesn’t convince you that the economy is rigged, I don’t know what will. Perhaps a sous-vide machine. Or better yet, a Wi-Fi-enabled toaster that judges your life choices. But until then, I have my Air Fryer Pro—and it has my full, skeptical attention.