Why DoorDash’s Price Tactics Should Worry Us All

In the digital food economy, transparency isn’t a luxury—it’s the price of trust. DoorDash is now learning that the hard way.

Some may dismiss food delivery users as lazy, but that stereotype ignores reality. Many Canadians rely on apps like DoorDash or UberEats not by choice, but out of necessity—due to limited mobility, demanding schedules, or even inclement weather. What’s truly lazy is the platform’s approach to pricing transparency. Abusive pricing is abusive pricing, regardless of convenience.

DoorDash, a dominant player in the food delivery economy, is now at the centre of a major legal challenge. In June 2025, the Competition Bureau filed an application with the Competition Tribunal alleging that DoorDash misled consumers by advertising deceptively low prices, only to reveal unavoidable fees—service charges, regulatory recovery costs, and small-order surcharges—at the final stage of checkout. Known as “drip pricing,” this tactic is precisely what recent amendments to the Competition Act were designed to eliminate.

That’s right, the government is suing DoorDash.

This case is not just about a single company’s practices—it’s about maintaining integrity in a digital marketplace that millions of Canadians now rely on to access food. According to the Bureau, DoorDash may have collected nearly $1 billion in hidden fees from Canadian consumers over several years. That equates to about $25 per Canadian—an enormous figure in a country where food inflation has already strained household budgets.

Importantly, this isn’t the first such case. In 2024, Cineplex was fined $39 million for similar drip pricing tactics involving hidden booking fees. But unlike movie tickets, food is not discretionary—it’s a necessity. When essential purchases are subject to opaque pricing models, it undermines not just trust but fairness in the market.

DoorDash has now responded by claiming that all fees were “prominently displayed” before customers confirmed payment. They also argue that consumers had alternatives: subscribe to DashPass, choose pickup, or spend more to avoid certain charges. From a legal standpoint, these defences may hold weight. But from a food economics perspective, they miss the point. If the price consumers click on is not the price they ultimately pay, then price signals are distorted—and markets cease to function efficiently.

Consumer protection laws are meant to ensure pricing clarity, not reward platforms for building in workarounds. For some users, especially older adults or people with disabilities, these apps can be overwhelming. Complexity is not an excuse for opacity.

This issue also reflects a broader transformation in how Canadians access food. Delivery is no longer a luxury—it’s a normalized channel in the food economy. From urban centres to rural communities, Canadians are using apps for groceries and meals because traditional access points may be limited. This makes transparency not just a legal matter but a public policy concern—one tied to accessibility, equity, and digital literacy.

When trust erodes in digital food markets, platforms don’t just face legal penalties—they risk reputational damage that can be difficult to repair. The entire value proposition of delivery hinges on convenience and reliability. When pricing is unclear or misleading, both are compromised.

In an increasingly digital food system, transparency is currency. If DoorDash and its competitors wish to preserve their role in this ecosystem, they must commit to clear and upfront pricing. The Competition Bureau’s intervention is timely and warranted, but it also prompts a broader question: why are other platforms not being scrutinized under the same lens?

Charging fees for service is acceptable in a market economy. Concealing those charges until the final screen is not. In the food space, where trust is everything, transparency isn’t a courtesy—it’s an obligation.