I recently cleaned out my phone which honestly is something that I tend to put off doing because, let’s face it, I am one of those million- notification- unread old group chat- having people. But I was getting pretty low on storage so I decided to start going through and delete things.
That is until today when I found those ancient text messages with Cindy, my best college buddy. The kind of things you read right through the lines. The funny thing – at first, I was laughing at the parity we had, emojis we overused, misspellings in late-night confession. And yet something drew me in.
2018 Text:
“Hey, brunch is $25. Wanna just split it?”
K, nothing out of the ordinary is there. Scroll a few scrolls later-there’s a message in 2020 that says the same thing:
“That’s it, $35. I’ll Venmo you.”
Another, this one from just last year:
“So … $49.50 with tip. Can we just call it $50?”
And all at once, I got it. My phone, held in my hand, was not just preserving memories; it was silently tallying inflation. My goofy little SMS was a private diary of how much the infrequently watchful me has allowed life to grow more expensive.
Inflation Written Between the Lines
I don’t think most of us need economists to tell us when things cost more now. We feel it every time we swipe a card. But seeing it spelled out in casual texts—that was different.
There in black and white:
- $25 brunch turned into $50 brunch.
- $12 concert tickets from 2016 vs the $35 ones today.
- Gas price jokes that went “ugh $2.80 again” to “bro, it’s $4.80, RIP.”
Phones, everyday things we barely think about; that’s what makes me realize these hidden economic stories. And honestly? More personal than reading any headline.
I recalled something from a Pew Research report in 2023 that claimed about 89% of Americans were noticing higher costs in groceries and dining out more than anywhere else. Well, my texts were basically proving that point in real time.
A City That’s Growing, Just Like the Costs
Living in Denver makes this especially noticeable. The city’s been booming, and that’s not news to anyone here. More people, more startups, more buildings going up every year.
With all that comes higher costs, too. Rent hikes, food getting more expensive–my favorite neighborhood coffee spot started charging a dollar for oat milk that used to be free.
I sometimes wonder if maybe this city of mountains and modern is teaching me to accept change, whether I like it or not. It should come with limits … like the slow creep of inflation showing up in my brunch texts.
Why Old Texts Feel So Honest
I was considering why those text receipts were affecting me more than the budgeting app. Perhaps it is that budgeting apps feel clinical. They present graphs, charts, tidy little categories.
Texts are different. They’re messy, unfiltered. They don’t care about formatting. When my friend writes, “Dude, how is pho $18 now? It was $10 last year!” that’s not analysis—that’s a gut reaction.
That’s the thing: inflation isn’t just numbers; it’s the feeling of surprise, frustration, or disbelief. And those feelings live in our casual conversations, not our spreadsheets.
Where Tech Fits Into This
Now, here’s where my mind started wandering. If my old texts can reveal such a clear picture of inflation, what would happen if technology leaned into that?
Denver, where I’m based, enjoys burgeoning cohorts of creative problem solvers. There’s this under-the-radar but flourishing scene of mobile app development Denver folks can hold their heads high about. Startups here aren’t just chasing after shiny ideas; they’re trying to solve real everyday problems.
Think of an app that can draw intelligence not just from receipts or bank data but from the real words we use with each other. Imagine if your phone could expose the covert narrative of rising prices within your very texts. Pretty far-fetched-sounding, yes, although so was using your face at a kiosk just a few years ago.
The Emotional Side of Money
When I think about my financial journey, it’s anything but a straight line. I’ve had times of saving well, and I’ve had times where I Venmoed people money I didn’t really have just to keep up appearances. Those brunch texts weren’t just about prices but who I was at the time.
A few years ago, in 2018, my husband and I went to brunch for $25, and it didn’t feel great, but it was doable—kind of a splurge. By 2020, during the pandemic, we were out for a $35 brunch, and it felt noticeably heavier; as my husband put it, “Should we even be doing this?”
Fast forward to 2024, an episode where people are saying $50 brunch has almost been normalized…but that’s a horror in itself, isn’t it?
Looking at the Bigger Picture
So I went a little deeper into this. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics claims food prices will have increased by almost 25% between 2019 and 2024. Energy costs? About 30% more. And wages haven’t gone up as much for many of us.Which is why my texts weren’t just humorous—they were the proof. Every time we messaged about splitting a check, we were unknowingly, or subconsciously perhaps, documenting how the economy was framing our friendship.
It made me wonder what other parts of life we could understand better if we looked back at the little things we overlook.
Tech as a Silent Partner
As I mused on it, it dawned on me that technology has been playing that role all along. Not in the sense of “sci-fi conquest” but in the subtle, silent way of integration into our lives.
Where my texts revealed inflation, apps built in Denver are containing it. And that’s what I adore about the mobile app development community in Denver; it’s not all about flashy gimmicks but building tools that honor how real people live.
Banking Apps that give the connections of your bank but also give emotional nudges. Subscription-tracking apps that judge your subscriptions, but feel more like a helpful friend. Budgeting apps that make being broke just a little less lonely.
That’s the future I’d like to see—not just tech that calculates, but tech that empathizes.
Where I Landed
I didn’t expect an economic lesson to be buried in my texts. Yet there it was: clear proof that inflation is not some abstract thing; it’s something I’ve lived through in real time, one brunch bill at a time.
Probably, this is why of late, I have been a little forgiving to myself when the money feels tight. It is not me after all but the surrounding world.
But there’s hope, too. Denver’s human creativity mixed with burgeoning tech innovation means someone is onto ways to make these invisible pressures more visible, more manageable. It’s the kind of progress that makes me think that, maybe one day, I’ll look back at my texts and see a different story: one not just of spiking costs but how we found new ways to adapt.
I’ll keep scrolling through my old conversations every now and then. Not just for nostalgia, but for the quiet lessons they hold.
