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The displaced cost of post-consumer waste



When we purchase consumer goods, whether food, clothing, household items, or other durable goods, we’re usually aware of the point-of-sale cost. Downstream costs, though hiding in plain sight, are often ignored.


The average American produces 4.9 pounds of trash per day, according to the Environmental Protection Agency (up from 4.5 pounds reported in 2021). Most Americans pay for trash collection services, which could include both municipal waste and recycling, possibly composting, or even additional specialty collection services, like Ridwell. Or trips to the dump.


Where does this trash originate? We call it "post-consumer waste," but that term itself shifts blame from the companies that created it in the first place onto consumers. The term "post-company waste" is unheard of, and companies bear little to no responsibility for the mess they’ve willingly created.


Product packaging is often excessive, difficult to recycle, and not sustainable. Product packaging can include paper and paperboard, plastics, metals, and glass. How many times have you ordered something online, and received a box within a box? Or specifically ordered an “eco-friendly” or “sustainable” product that came wrapped in plastic, or even worse, Styrofoam? Have you opened a container to find it half full? Considering the adage “time is money,” another cost is the time it takes to sort through and prepare materials for proper disposal, whether that means removing labels, crushing cans, removing packing tape, breaking down boxes, or following whatever local guidelines are required.


Greenwashing misleads us to believe that we’re making choices that are good for the planet. As one example, packaging might have a “recycling” symbol or a “please recycle” message, even if the packaging can’t be recycled. This misrepresentation can have a significant negative downstream impact, adding cost to the sorting process, damaging systems and equipment, and contaminating tons of recyclables, causing them to be sent to landfills.


Planned obsolescence drives waste and consumption. We’ve entered the era where it is often cheaper to buy new than to repair what we have. I recently broke the glass carafe for my name-brand French press, and the cost to replace the carafe was a few dollars less than purchasing an entirely new unit. (I found an off-brand carafe at a much more reasonable price.) Major appliances typically come with a 10-year warranty where appliances in the past would last half a lifetime or more. Eerily, on more than one occasion, appliances I’ve purchased stopped working just days after the warranty expired. Fast fashion falls apart at the seams, literally. The lifespans of e-goods are notoriously low. Chances are, many of us have several older model computers and cell phones sitting in our homes, unused, none of them easily disposed of. When things last or can be repaired, we don’t spend money to replace them. Companies want our dollars, and will do extensive research to determine how soon something can break or stop working, while still retaining a perception of quality.


Relentless marketing drives waste and consumption. Did you see my post on stopping junkmail? Perhaps a greater issue, online marketing and social media have become huge consumption drivers. I recently learned of a new phenomenon, “house dysmorphia,” where people become dissatisfied with how their homes look compared to the stylized, photoshoot-ready ones they see online or on home improvement shows. So they buy things to compensate. A proven marketing tactic is to make us feel dissatisfied or lacking so that we buy things that are supposed to make us feel better.


Busy lifestyles are capitalized on. Single use. Disposable. Ready made. Takeout. Delivery. With the age of convenience comes a proliferation of packaging and waste, and the opportunity to buy never rests: We can now be consumers 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Comedian Ronny Chieng sums this up beautifully in this YouTube clip from his show on Netflix, “Asian Comedian Destroys America.”


Communities are negatively impacted. One in six Americans live within three miles of a toxic waste site. Landfills are exceeding or are on track to exceed capacities. Amazon warehouses disrupt communities, worsening noise and air pollution. Asthma, lung cancer, endocrine disruption, and congenital anomalies are just a few of the related risks—aside from the depressing visuals that these sites impose and their impact on mental wellbeing. Microplastics and PFAS are seemingly, alarmingly everywhere.


It's not unreasonable to ask that companies be held responsible for the waste they create and the ensuing health issues. Disposal should be no more difficult than the initial purchase. Solutions need to be mainstream and accessible, not special mail-back programs that require access to printers for labels and trips to drop-off locations. Until companies step up, the burden is on us, the consumers. See my earlier post, “Rethink ‘reduce, reuse, recycle,’” for a list of actions you can take.


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