Fargo station owner: Higher gas prices a survival tactic, not gouging
Source: InForum Business. Casualplayhub News adds summary, context, and editorial framing while linking back to the original report.
FARGO — On a brisk September afternoon, Jared Schultes stands behind the counter of Integrity Convenience on 52nd Avenue South, watching drivers pull into the big-brand stations down the street. His own pumps sit idle more often than he would like. For Schultes, the decision to keep his gas prices roughly 30 cents higher than the nearest competitors is not about greed—it is about survival.
Gas prices across North Dakota shot up last spring and never dropped, leaving the average gallon in Cass County just under $3.60. But the gap between stations can be dizzying: 20, 30, even 40 cents per gallon. Schultes says that if he matched the prices of major corporations, his family-owned business would hemorrhage more than $500,000 a year.
“We understand that we want to be competitive on retail, but we can’t go out of business doing it,” he said, leaning against a shelf of snacks. “We’re not here to rip people off. It’s a low retail, low-margin business, even though compared to these guys, it looks like we’re gouging.”
Schultes knows the industry from the inside. He spent years working in corporate offices for Holiday and Circle K. He saw firsthand how large chains can absorb losses in one market by making up the difference in others—through convenience store sales, loyalty programs, or sheer volume. Independent stations like his do not have that cushion.
“We’re not asking for anything more than a level playing field with these guys,” he said.
Seeking a solution, Schultes contacted the state of North Dakota. He believed existing laws might protect small businesses from predatory pricing by giants. The response was discouraging: he was told to find a private attorney.
“Getting a private attorney as a small business going up against a Fortune 500 company does zero good,” he said.
WDAY News reached out to the state attorney general’s office for comment but has not yet received a response.
The price disparity has cost Integrity Convenience customers. Schultes acknowledges he does not blame them. “I’ve been the consumer and looked at it from the outside, so I get it,” he said.
But he decided to be open about the reasons behind the higher prices. The station posted a message on social media explaining the situation, thanking its loyal supporters, and asking the community to choose local when possible. The response has been mixed, but Schultes says every bit of understanding helps.
“We’re pretty tied on what we can do, but if we can at least be vocal and responsible with what we say, we’re gonna give it a shot,” he said.
He also notes that the struggle is especially bitter given that major oil companies have reported record-high profits in 2026. “We couldn’t get by without our customers,” he added. “We’re invested in this community, and we’re in it hopefully for the long haul.”
For now, the pumps at Integrity Convenience remain a few cents higher, a small but stubborn stand against an uneven marketplace.
Article commentary
The story of Jared Schultes and Integrity Convenience is a microcosm of a larger, often invisible tension in the American retail fuel market. At first glance, a 30-cent price gap seems like a simple case of a station trying to maximize profit. But Schultes’ explanation—that matching prices would cost his family business half a million dollars annually—reveals the razor-thin margins that independent operators live on. What makes this case particularly compelling is the asymmetry of power. Major corporations like Holiday and Circle K can afford to sell gasoline at or below cost in certain areas because they have diversified revenue streams, including convenience stores, car washes, and franchise fees. Their ability to weather regional losses is a strategic advantage, not a crime. For a single-location station, every gallon sold at a loss is a direct hit to the bottom line. Schultes’ frustration with the state’s response—being told to hire a private attorney—highlights a gap in regulatory protection. Many states have laws against predatory pricing, but enforcement is often reactive and expensive. A small business owner cannot afford the legal fees to challenge a Fortune 500 company, even if the law is on their side. This creates a de facto permission for deep-pocketed players to engage in local price wars that drive independents out of business. From a consumer perspective, the instinct to chase the cheapest gas is rational. Few drivers will pay 30 cents more per gallon out of charity. But the long-term cost of that behavior is the erosion of choice. When independent stations disappear, competition diminishes, and big chains can eventually raise prices without fear of undercutting. The short-term savings at the pump may come at the expense of a more concentrated, less resilient market. Schultes’ decision to turn to social media is a modern tactic—transparency as a business strategy. By explaining his rationale, he hopes to convert some price-sensitive customers into loyal ones. Whether this works in the long run is uncertain, but it reflects a broader trend: small businesses using storytelling to compete with scale. None of this absolves the reality that gas prices are high everywhere, and families are feeling the pinch. But Schultes’ story is a reminder that behind every price tag is a business trying to survive. The real villain may not be the independent station charging 30 cents more, but a system that allows the biggest players to dictate terms that smaller ones cannot meet. As oil companies celebrate record profits, the gap between corporate and independent fuel retailers is likely to widen. Policymakers might consider whether the current legal framework is adequate to protect small businesses—or whether the market is simply being allowed to consolidate, one lowered price at a time.