Few things grab your attention in life more than a price increase, particularly in these so called low inflation days. There you are, going along from day to day knowing that that morning cinnamon bun costs exactly $3.14 when suddenly - WITHOUT WARNING (aside from months and months of Bill Vander Zalm mysteriously reappearing on our TV screens but you always quickly clicked away) - that bun costs $3.40. Oh, the saturated fats coursing through the veins just burble with outrage. The HST, you learn, is to blame. But death and taxes, what can you do, aside from signing a petition and recalling the government?
Armed with the knowledge that anti-HST fervour is sweeping the province, I decided to sample the righteous anger as patrons partook of their first meal that included the new tax. They were strangely philosophical about the higher price, but perhaps that's because they love the owner of the place. Eating the HST