qfx

Apparently, oil decided to have a bit of a surge, topping $100 a barrel. Four years is a long time, honestly. Feels like yesterday I was meticulously tracking avocado toast expenditure. And just when I’d almost convinced myself I was financially responsible, the Bureau of Labor Statistics decided to drop a little bombshell: 92,000 jobs lost in February. Ninety-two thousand. It’s a number that just… sits there. Mocking my attempts at optimism.

They call it retail. A simple exchange. But Costco isn’t interested in the simplicity of profit margins. It isn’t about squeezing every last kopeck from the consumer. No, it’s a game of volume, a relentless pursuit of scale. The markup on goods? A meager 11%. A pittance. They don’t need to make money on the goods themselves. They’ve found a more reliable source, a steady drip of revenue from the huddled masses who pay for the privilege of entering the warehouse. Sixty-five dollars a year for the basic membership, a hundred and thirty for the ‘executive’ option—a small price to pay, it seems, for access to perceived savings. It’s a clever arrangement, a subtle extraction of wealth, masked by the promise of a bargain. The CEO speaks of being the lowest price, a ‘leading mantra.’ But mantras require faith, and faith rarely translates directly to shareholder value.

The filing with the Securities and Exchange Commission reveals a reduction of 398,334 shares during the final quarter of the year. The sum, while considerable, feels less like a decisive abandonment and more like a prudent pruning. Frontier, it seems, is not discarding the vine entirely, but rather shaping it for a more sustainable yield. They retain a substantial, if diminished, stake – 545,349 shares – though the overall value of the position has contracted by over $107 million, a reflection of both market forces and the firm’s deliberate actions.

There’s the usual stuff rattling around too, of course. Geopolitics being…geopolitical. Concerns that the promised land of AI revenue might be a mirage. Basically, people are remembering that companies still need to, you know, make money. Shocking, I know. But this temporary dip? It’s a chance to snag some seriously good stocks without needing to remortgage the house. We’re talking a grand. A cool thousand. Enough to feel like an adult, but not enough to ruin you when the robots do finally take over.

Disney, you see, is a purveyor of dreams, and dreams, alas, are susceptible to the prevailing winds. The global economy, a restless sea, threatens to capsize even the most seaworthy vessels. Inflation, a slow-burning ember, warms the cost of passage—the fuel that carries families to distant kingdoms of make-believe. When the purse strings tighten, when the horizon darkens with uncertainty, the impulse to seek respite, to indulge in a temporary escape, diminishes. The tank must be filled before the imagination can soar.

The stock (PLNT 1.87%) has been bouncing around like a dropped weight plate lately—down almost 30% from its peak as of March 4th. A dip, they call it. I’m not a doctor, but I suspect my portfolio has a similar condition. Still, it got me thinking. There’s a certain…comfort in predictability. And Planet Fitness, despite its aggressively cheerful branding, feels…predictable. Let’s dig in, shall we? Just promise not to ask me for stock tips. I once bought high on Blockbuster. Blockbuster.