By Eleanor Riggs
The Great Penny Purge and the MyPillow Guy’s Pricing Panic
Picture this: the U.S. Mint decides to ditch the penny. No more copper-plated zinc clinking in your pocket, no more rolling those little Lincolns for a coffee run. The penny’s gone, kaput, finito. Prices gotta round to the nearest nickel now, and oh boy, does this throw a wrench in the MyPillow Guy’s world!
Mike Lindell, the mustachioed maestro of shredded foam pillows, built an empire on infomercials and quirky price points. You know the drill: “Get your MyPillow for the low, low price of $99.99!” Sounds snappy, right? That .99 screams “deal” louder than a late-night TV pitch. But with pennies extinct, retailers round up. That $99.99? Now it’s $100.00. Oof, the psychology of pricing takes a hit. Suddenly, Mike’s pillows don’t feel like a steal—they feel like a flat hundred bucks. And who’s got that kinda cash for a lumpy bag of foam chunks?
Now, Mike’s no stranger to controversy (we’ll skip the spicy election stuff—let’s keep this fluffy). He’s been slingin’ pillows at prices like $29.99, $49.98, or even that eyebrow-raising $14.88 (yep, the one that got folks whispering about secret codes—Mike swears it’s just a coincidence). But without the penny, those catchy .99s and .98s are history. Prices round to $30, $50, or $15. Mike’s sweating bullets in his Chaska, Minnesota, factory. “How am I supposed to market ‘the most comfortable pillow you’ll ever own’ at a boring $100?!” he hollers, clutching a prototype pillow stuffed with dreams and desperation.
See, the penny’s demise doesn’t just mess with Mike’s vibe—it’s a logistical nightmare. MyPillow’s already been through the wringer: retailers like Walmart and Bed Bath & Beyond ditched him, his warehouse got evicted, and he’s auctioned off forklifts and stained ottomans to stay afloat. Now, with no pennies to juggle, his “buy one, get one free” deals (which got him in hot water with the Better Business Bureau) lose their sizzle. A $99.95 pillow rounded to $100 feels like a scam when the “free” one’s just a marketing trick. Customers aren’t dumb—they’re side-eyeing those foam chunks harder than ever.
But Mike’s a fighter. He pivots to nickel-friendly pricing: “New MyPillow, now only $99.95!” Wait, that’s still rounding to $100. Okay, $95.00! Nope, too low—his margins are tighter than a pillowcase. Maybe he’ll lean into the chaos, slap a $100 price tag on it, and call it “The Honest Abe” pillow—ironic, since Abe’s face is off the currency now. Or he’ll go rogue, sell pillows for $99.90 (rounds down to $99.90, baby!) and claim it’s a patriotic stand against Big Rounding.
The real kicker? Without pennies, Mike’s gotta rethink his whole schtick. No more “penny-pinching” deals, no more “worth every cent” taglines. He might pivot to bartering—trade a pillow for two chickens and a handshake. Or maybe he’ll lobby to bring back the penny, claiming it’s a deep-state plot to tank his business. Either way, the MyPillow Guy’s tossing and turning, dreaming of a world where .99 still reigns supreme and his foam-filled empire doesn’t crumble under the weight of a nickel.
