Business
Created in California: How Barry's turned grueling military workouts into a sexy lifestyle
Arezu Aghaseyedjavadi signed up for her first Barry’s class in 2017, motivated to give the high-intensity workout a try after noticing how fit everyone seemed when she flew from San Francisco to Los Angeles for weekly work trips.
She lost 50 pounds in the first year and got hooked. More than 1,500 classes later, the venture capitalist, who now lives in Pasadena, pays about $500 a month for the boutique fitness chain’s top-level membership and has sweated it out at Barry’s around the world: all seven L.A.-area locations as well as studios in the Bay Area, San Diego, Austin, New York, Miami, Chicago, Boston, the United Kingdom, Dubai and Abu Dhabi — “I went there for 48 hours for a business meeting and I was like, ‘I want to get my Barry’s in,’” she said.
Aghaseyedjavadi was one of hundreds of Barry’s superfans who participated in a recent three-day bash to celebrate the brand’s 25th anniversary — a considerable milestone in the competitive, fad-of-the-moment world of health and fitness clubs, estimated to be a $98-billion global market.
Barry’s co-founder Barry Jay, right, and Chief Executive Joey Gonzalez in Hollywood in October.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
To mark the occasion, the company rented a Hollywood film studio and set up free cold-plunge baths, facial stations, a Lululemon pop-up and zero-gravity Therabody Lounger chairs. Employees handed out packets of Liquid I.V. hydration powder and samples of Mosh, a line of protein bars by Maria Shriver and her son Patrick Schwarzenegger. The kickoff party, DJ’d by Diplo and attended by *NSYNC’s Lance Bass, stretched into the next morning.
The main event was a series of huge 225-person workout classes, for which the company trucked in $1 million worth of Woodway treadmills, 2,200 dumbbells and resistance bands, and a custom audiovisual system to replicate the neon-red, pulsating nightclub aesthetic that has become a staple of the Barry’s experience.
An hourlong adrenaline-racing workout in a windowless room with hundreds of panting strangers spaced inches apart was unfathomable a few years ago, when gyms and fitness studios abruptly closed at the start of the pandemic. In the chaotic months that followed, many — overwhelmed by ever-changing government mandates and unable to lure back COVID-anxious clients who’d switched to virtual or outdoor exercise programs — never reopened.
Hundreds of Barry’s superfans attended a Hollywood party in October to celebrate the company’s 25th anniversary, a considerable milestone in the fad-of-the-moment world of fitness. After a challenging pandemic period, the company has been in rebuilding mode and today operates 84 studios in 14 countries.
(Presley Ann / Getty Images)
Founded in West Hollywood, Barry’s had become one of the most recognizable names in a crowded industry and was in the midst of an aggressive global expansion in early 2020. One hundred forty thousand people were attending a Barry’s class at least once a week, and the company planned to open 16 new locations by the end of the year, a 23% increase.
Instead, it halted operations at all 70 of its studios and laid off or furloughed two-thirds of its 1,300 employees.
“We were peaking — I call it the era of opulence,” Chief Executive Joey Gonzalez — ripped, toasty tan and typically tank-topped — said in a recent interview at Soho House Holloway. He started taking Barry’s classes in 2003 when he was an aspiring actor, became an instructor the following year and has led the company since 2015.
“Barry’s was so successful, we were firing on all cylinders, fitness in general had never been more top of mind for consumers,” he continued. “It was the most unnatural experience in life to go from generating over $100 million of revenue per annum to zero dollars.”
Big-box gyms, the Thighmaster and step aerobics dominated the American fitness landscape when personal trainer Barry Jay and two investor partners leased a small storefront at the corner of La Cienega Boulevard and Holloway Drive in 1998.
Jay didn’t have a military background — he’d previously worked as an instructor at Gold’s Gym — but called his new business Barry’s Bootcamp to highlight the hardcore nature of the workout, which he designed to be far tougher than the high-reps-with-light-weights body-sculpting classes that were popular at the time.
2006 photo of Barry Jay, center, leading a Barry’s Bootcamp workout in West Hollywood.
(Carlos Chavez / Los Angeles Times)
He leaned into the name: His studio was decked out in camouflage wallpaper and reinforced netting, and members were given numbered silver dog tags when they joined. During class, which cost $15 each and alternated between heart-pumping intervals on the treadmill and strength training with dumbbells on the floor, he would holler orders to sprint faster and lift heavier while pacing the darkened room in cargo shorts.
The punishment for being late was stair climbs or push-ups. Once, when Jay caught a client eyeing the clock, he got on a step stool and detached it from the wall.
“I said, ‘Hang on, Sandy, let me help you out. Why don’t you hold the clock while you run, and now you won’t have to worry what time it is,’” he recalled recently.
Barry’s co-founder Barry Jay, left, in 2014 with Joey Gonzalez, who started as a client and eventually became CEO. Gonzalez led a rebrand of Barry’s, phasing out the boot camp name and the intimidating military theme.
(Courtesy of Barry’s)
Jay, now retired and living in Las Vegas, had flown into L.A. to be a special guest at the 25th anniversary festivities. Sitting serenely on a treadmill before the start of the first 225-person workout, the company’s largest class ever (the average Barry’s class can fit about 50 people), he attributed some of his brash behavior back then to personal issues he was dealing with as he struggled to maintain his sobriety while teaching 40 times a week.
A 2006 Times profile detailed his problems with cocaine and other drugs, describing Jay as “an addict waiting to happen, with a more-is-more personality that made him do everything to the extreme … A few would leave class in tears.”
“I’m very soft now,” Jay, 60, said. “There was a lot of me that evolved with each and every year. But I will say it was all done in the spirit of the workout.”
Barry’s itself evolved, slowly phasing out the boot camp part of its name and the intimidating drill sergeant teaching style.
In its place, it pivoted to a workout-as-elite-lifestyle hook that helped launch the era of the modern boutique fitness studio. A class was no longer just a fat-burning sweat session — it was an all-encompassing, and expensive, health and wellness journey that became part of your identity.
Gonzalez was behind the glow-up. Still teaching Barry’s classes, he persuaded the company’s co-founders to let him invest his own money to open the company’s second location, in San Diego, in 2009.
With its red-lighted nightclub vibe and luxe amenities, Barry’s helped launch the era of the modern boutique fitness studio.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
Two years later, he took out a second mortgage on his home to bring Barry’s to New York City, unveiling an upscale studio that would serve as the brand’s blueprint going forward: a sleek small-format space stocked with high-end bath products and other luxe amenities; top-of-the-line exercise equipment; a Fuel Bar selling pricey made-to-order protein shakes; and an army of absurdly hot instructors.
“It is inspirational and it is aspirational,” Gonzalez, 46, said of the rebranded Barry’s. “It just felt like the right thing to do. I think we were entering a new era where millennials don’t necessary respond to that type of punitive behavior.”
The hyper-curated vibe combined with the company’s 50-50 mix of cardio and lifting caught on among designer-athleisure-clad women, gay men and celebrities including Kim Kardashian and David Beckham. In 2019, a spandex-bodysuited Jennifer Lopez tried out to become a Barry’s instructor in an SNL skit (“How do you think you get this way? I haven’t had a carb since I was a baby!”).
Boutique brands hinge on cult status — for those who are there, they can’t imagine being anywhere else.
— Simeon Siegel, managing director at BMO Capital Markets
Rivals copied its high-energy format and feel, leading to an explosion of lookalike studios around the world selling their own take on premium high-intensity interval training (HIIT). There are now brands that combine rowing and weights, StairMaster and weights, climbing and weights, boxing and weights, spinning and weights, treadmill-rowing-and-weights, and so on, and major gym chains have introduced boot-camp-style workouts to their class schedules.
More than 3 million people have tried the Barry’s workout, a combination of treadmill intervals and strength training, since its founding in 1998.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
Whichever studio you choose, it’s a near-guarantee that the playlists will be heavy on Britney and Beyoncé, the walls selfie-ready and cheeky-hashtag-adorned, the core customer base made up of die-hard fanatics reverse-lunging and dead-lifting in branded merch.
“Boutique brands hinge on cult status — for those who are there, they can’t imagine being anywhere else,” said Simeon Siegel, managing director at BMO Capital Markets. “People are proud to describe their experiences — they don’t just say they worked out; they tell you where they went.”
Despite the higher price point compared with traditional gyms — a single Barry’s class in L.A. now costs $34, and classes were shortened a few years ago to 50 minutes from an hour — “boutique fitness enthusiasts willingly pay a premium,” an October report by Research and Markets said.
“The boutique fitness industry is experiencing remarkable growth, with the global market projected to reach a staggering $79.66 billion by the end of 2029, as compared to $48 billion in 2022,” the data analysis firm said. It attributed the surge in popularity to factors including a sense of community, small class sizes and the trendy, meticulously cultivated atmosphere.
During the pandemic, many fitness operators simply unplugged their cardio machines, locked their doors and waited it out. Barry’s closed all of its Red Rooms in the U.S. on March 16, 2020, but Gonzalez wanted to find ways to keep the business going.
The next morning, he led a live full-body workout over Instagram that drew more than 20,000 participants, a precursor to the Barry’s At-Home virtual group classes that the chain would begin to offer a few weeks later. To help quarantined customers build their personal workout stations, and to make some money during the shutdown, Barry’s sold its branded weights, exercise benches, mats and resistance bands online.
Fitness really got the short end of the stick. There seemed to be support for so many different industries, but nothing for fitness.
— Joey Gonzalez, Barry’s CEO
Many iterations would follow: There was Barry’s X, an app-based workout for clients to do on their own. It debuted Barry’s Outdoors, its silent-disco strength classes held in parking lots, on rooftops and in the parking garage of the deserted Beverly Center; clients worked out in masks spaced six feet apart, wore wireless headphones to hear the instructors and had to wait in between rounds while employees sanitized each station. In New York, Barry’s reopened a couple of its studios as “open gyms” where people could work out on their own, with a remote instructor’s voice piped in through speakers.
When the company was finally given the green light to turn on its red lights again, it held indoor classes at 25% or 50% capacity.
“This was no fault of ours, so it was really challenging to process, internalize and problem-solve,” Gonzalez said of that strange time. “Fitness really got the short end of the stick. There seemed to be support for so many different industries, but nothing for fitness.”
Due to its size, Barry’s was not eligible for PPP loans. But it did receive incentives from Miami Mayor Francis Suarez and moved its headquarters to the city, where Gonzalez lives, in 2021.
Barry’s, with financial backing from private equity firms North Castle Partners and LightBay Capital, has been in rebuilding mode ever since the most stringent government restrictions were lifted. Today it has 84 studios in 14 countries, just shy of where it had planned to be at the end of 2020, and employs 1,400 people, its largest workforce to date.
The success of Barry’s led to an explosion of HIIT-based boutique fitness studios around the world. Their popularity stems from the combination of a sweat-dripping workout with a meticulously curated, aspirational aesthetic.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
Its pace of expansion has been slower and more deliberate than that of franchise giants such as Orangetheory Fitness (more than 1,500 studios in 25 countries) and Xponential Fitness, a group that owns CycleBar, Row House and several other boutique brands. More than half of Barry’s studios are corporate-owned.
Revenue and attendance were up about one-third last year compared with 2022, the year Barry’s became profitable again. Roughly 20% of its clients take three or more classes a week, and 3 million people have tried the Barry’s workout since its inception. Just over half of its clients are 28 to 45 years old, about two-thirds of them female, the company said.
Now Barry’s is looking to double the size of its portfolio in the next five years, and making big investments in the L.A. market, where it already has a significant presence.
Next month Barry’s will close its original West Hollywood studio, a run-down outlier at more than a quarter-century old, and move into a gleaming 21,000-square-foot space a few blocks away. It’s bringing a concept called Ride X Lift to the new studio — the low-impact workout combines spinning and weights and is designed for people who dread the tread. There are also studios coming to Santa Monica, Studio City and Newport Beach in the first half of the year.
The pandemic led to a forced consolidation toward larger, well-capitalized fitness brands, but it’s still an extremely fragmented industry with a lot of players and high attrition rates, Siegel of BMO said.
“The best fitness products that are not winning on price are winning because of an emotional connection that is as strong as the physical one,” he said.
It has also become a more expensive business to run, so the pressure is on to get notoriously fickle customers in the door and convert them into fervent regulars like Aghaseyedjavadi.
“One time I did three classes in one day: a 6 a.m. and a 7 a.m., then I went to work, then there was traffic in L.A. so I was like, ‘Let me just go do a Barry’s at night,’” she said.
“It was the same instructor from the morning. He saw me and was like, ‘You’re back?’ I was like, ‘Should I do a fourth class?’ And he’s like, ‘No, please go home.’”
Business
California’s gas prices push Uber and Lyft drivers off the road
The highest gas prices in the country are making it tougher for some gig drivers to make a living.
Gas prices have shot up amid the war in the Middle East. On average, California gas prices are the most expensive in the United States, according to data from the American Automobile Assn. The average price of regular gas in California is almost $6. The national average is a little above $4.
While Uber and Lyft drivers have concocted clever ways to cut gas consumption, they say that without some relief they will be forced to leave the ride-hailing business.
John Mejia was already struggling to make money as a part-time Lyft driver when soaring gas prices made his side hustle even harder.
“Unfortunately, it’s the economics of paying less to drivers and gas prices,” he said. “It actually is pulling people out of the business.”
Guests at The Westin St. Francis hotel get into an Uber.
(Jess Lynn Goss / For The Times)
Gig work offers drivers the freedom to work for themselves and more flexibility, but being independent contractors also means they must shoulder unexpected costs.
Ride-sharing companies say they’re trying to help, but drivers say the gas relief comes with caveats. For now, drivers say they’re being pickier about what rides they accept, cutting hours and are looking at other ways to make money.
Mejia, who started driving for Lyft more than a decade ago, said in his early days, he would sometimes make $400 in three hours. Now it takes 12 hours to rake in $200.
The San Francisco Bay Area consultant is an active member of the California Gig Workers Union, so he knows he isn’t alone. California has more than 800,000 gig rideshare drivers, according to the group, which is affiliated with the Service Employees International Union.
On social media sites such as Reddit and Facebook, gig workers have posted about how the higher gas prices are eating into their earnings. Among the tricks they are suggesting: reducing the number of times the ignition is turned on or off, avoiding traffic, working in specific neighborhoods and at times with high demand and switching to electric vehicles.
Gig drivers usually have only seconds to decide whether to accept a ride on the app, but they have become more strategic about which rides and deliveries they accept.
That means they are more likely to sit back in their cars and wait for higher fares for quick pick-up and drop-off.
“I highly recommend the ‘decline and recline’ strategy, rejecting unprofitable rides until a better one appears,” wrote Sergio Avedian, a driver, in the popular blog the Rideshare Guy.
Pedestrians cross the street in front of a Lyft and Uber driver on Wednesday. High gas prices have made it hard for gig drivers to make a living, cutting into their profits.
(Jess Lynn Goss / For The Times)
Uber, Lyft and other companies have unveiled several ways to help drivers save on gas.
Uber said drivers can get up to 15% cash back through May 26 with the Uber Pro card, a business debit Mastercard for drivers and couriers. Based on a worker’s tier, they can get up to $1 off per gallon of gas through Upside — an app that offers cash rewards — and up to 21 cents off per gallon of gas with Shell Fuel Rewards. The company also offers incentives for drivers who want to switch to electric vehicles.
“We know the price of gas is top of mind for many rideshare and delivery drivers across the country right now,” Uber said in a blog post about its gas savings efforts.
Lyft also said it’s expanding gas relief through May 26 because the company knows that the extra cost “hits hardest for drivers who depend on driving for their income.”
The company is offering more cash back, depending on the driver’s tier, for drivers who use a Lyft Direct business debit card to pay for gas at eligible gas stations. They can get an additional 14 cents per gallon off through Upside.
Drivers say the fine print on the offers dictates which card they use and where they fill up gas, making it difficult for them to save money.
“If I do the math, it’s ridiculous,” Mejia said. “They’re offering us nothing.”
Uber declined to comment, but pointed to its blog post about the gas relief efforts. Lyft also referenced the blog post and said “the gas savings were structured through rewards to maximize stackable opportunities.”
Guests at The Westin St. Francis hotel get into an Uber.
(Jess Lynn Goss / For The Times)
Gig workers have struggled with rising gas prices in the past.
In 2022, Lyft and Uber temporarily added a surcharge to their fares amid record-high gas prices following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. This year, Uber is adding a fuel charge to its fares in Australia for roughly two months to offset the high cost of gas for drivers. Lyft said it hasn’t added a fuel charge in the U.S. or elsewhere.
Margarita Penalosa, who drives full time for Uber and Lyft in Los Angeles, started as a rideshare driver in 2017. Back then, gas was cheaper. She would easily hit her goal of making $300 in eight hours. Now she’s making just $250 after working as much as 14 hours.
Gas prices, she said, used to be less than $3 per gallon. Now some gas stations are charging more than $8 per gallon.
“Take out the gas. Take out the mileage from my car and maintenance. How much [do] I really make? Probably I get $11 for an hour,” she said.
Jonathan Tipton Meyers wants to spend fewer hours as a rideshare driver.
He already juggles multiple gigs even while driving for Uber and Lyft in Los Angeles. He’s a mobile notary and loan signing agent, a writer and performer.
Driving is “a very challenging, full-time job,” he said. “It’s very taxing and, of course, wages were just continually decreasing.”
John Mejia, a longtime Lyft and Uber driver, poses for a portrait before attending a meeting about unionizing gig drivers.
(Jess Lynn Goss / For The Times)
Even if oil continues to flow through the Strait of Hormuz, which Iran reopened Friday, it could take a while for gas prices to come down to earth, said Mark Zandi, the chief economist at Moody’s Analytics.
“There’s an old adage that prices rise like a rocket and fall like a feather,” he said. “I think that’ll apply.”
In the meantime, it will be survival of the fittest drivers. If enough of them decide to leave the apps, the ride-hailing companies could be forced to raise fares further to attract some back.
“Those who approach rideshare driving strategically, tracking expenses, choosing trips carefully, and optimizing efficiency are far more likely to weather periods of high gas prices,” wrote Avedian in the Rideshare Guy blog. “For everyone else, a spike at the pump can quickly turn rideshare driving from a side hustle into a money-losing venture.”
Business
‘We’ve lost our way’: Clifton’s operator gives up on downtown Los Angeles
The proprietor of Los Angeles’ legendary Clifton’s has given up on reopening the shuttered venue.
It’s just too difficult to do business in downtown’s historic core, he says.
Andrew Meieran bought Clifton’s on Broadway in 2010 and poured more than $14 million into repairs, renovations and upgrades, adding additional bar and restaurant spaces in the four-story building. In 2018, he found that demand for cafeteria food was too low to be profitable, and he pivoted to a nightclub and lounge concept called Clifton’s Republic, featuring multiple dining and drinking venues. Meieran has tried elaborate themed environments, such as a tiki bar and forest playgrounds, and renting out the location for big events to spark more interest.
It was never easy, but during and since the pandemic, the neighborhood has grown increasingly unsafe as downtown has emptied of office workers and visitors.
Storefronts are gated up due to vandalism in the historic district in downtown Los Angeles on Tuesday.
(Eric Thayer / Los Angeles Times)
The alley behind Clifton’s Cafeteria in the downtown historic district Tuesday.
(Eric Thayer / Los Angeles Times)
Vandalism has been rampant, with graffiti appearing on the historic structure almost daily. Vandals would use acid or diamond glass cutters to deface the windows, often cracking the glass. It would cost Meieran more than $30,000 each time to replace the windows. Insurance companies either stopped offering policies that covered vandalism or raised premiums by as much as 600%, he said.
There has been continuous crime in the area, he said, including multiple assaults on people in front of his building. He last shut the venue last year, hoping things would improve and he could come back with a business that could work. Now he has given up. Someone else may take over the space or even the name of the historic spot, but he is done trying.
“We’ve lost our way,” Meieran said. “I want to get up on the tops of the skyscrapers and yell that people need to pay attention to this.”
The disenchantment of a business leader who used to be one of downtown L.A.’s biggest backers shines a spotlight on the stubborn safety concerns, rising costs and thinner foot traffic that have made it increasingly difficult for even iconic businesses to survive.
The once-popular institution dates back to 1935, when it was a Depression-era cafeteria and kitschy oasis that sold as many as 15,000 meals a day when Broadway was the city’s entertainment hub.
It served traditional cafeteria food such as pot roast, mashed potatoes and Jell-O in a woodsy grotto among fake redwood trees and a stone-wrapped waterfall reminiscent of Brookdale Lodge in Northern California.
It’s not the only once-prominent destination that has failed to find a way to flourish in today’s market. Cole’s, one of L.A.’s most famous restaurants and often credited with inventing the French dip sandwich, closed last month after a 118-year run.
“The bigger problem for us and the rest of the industry is the high cost of doing business,” said Cedd Moses, who used to operate Cole’s and has backed many other bars and restaurants in historic buildings downtown for decades. “That’s what is killing independent restaurants in this city.”
Outside of Clifton’s Cafeteria.
(Eric Thayer / Los Angeles Times)
Clifton’s Republic owner Andrew Meieran stands next to a boat on the top floor of the historic restaurant in 2024.
(Wally Skalij / Los Angeles Times)
Clifton’s opened and closed repeatedly during the pandemic and, more recently, after a burst pipe caused extensive damage. Meieran opened it for special events such as last Halloween, but it has otherwise been closed.
Police are woefully understaffed and hampered by public policy, said Blair Besten, president of downtown’s Historic Core Business Improvement District, a nonprofit that arranges graffiti removal, trash pickup and safety patrols in the area.
Businesses and residents in the area would like to see a bigger police presence, but there have been protests against that by people who are not from downtown, she said.
“People are starting to see the fruits of the defunding movement,” she said. “It has not led us to a better place as a city.”
The Los Angeles Police Department is making progress downtown, Captain Kelly Muniz said, with violent crime down more than 10% from last year.
“While we’re working very hard to solve crime, to prevent crime, there are still elements such as trash, open-air drug use, homelessness and graffiti,” she said. “We’re swinging in the right direction.”
Retailers have been opting out of downtown L.A., said real estate broker Derrick Moore of CBRE, who helps arrange commercial property leases. Brands have headed to more vibrant nearby neighborhoods such as Echo Park and Silver Lake.
“A lot of operators are just electing to skip over downtown,” he said. “They’re leasing spaces elsewhere, where they feel they have a greater chance at higher sales.”
A man walks past a pile of trash left on the street in the historic district.
(Eric Thayer / Los Angeles Times)
While some businesses are struggling, many downtown residents say their perceptions of safety are improving and that the area is regaining some vibrancy.
“A lot of people live here. I think people forget that,” Besten said. “We’re all surviving. It’s just hard for all the businesses to survive.”
A green shoot for the Historic Core is Art Night on the first Thursday of every month, when 50 or 60 locations, including permanent art galleries and pop-up galleries in unused storefronts, display art to map-toting visitors who come for the occasion.
They often end up in Spring Street bars, which more typically thrive on weekend nights but are still a draw to downtown.
“I think nightlife will thrive downtown, since bars attract people that don’t mind a little grittier atmosphere,” said Moses. “Our sales are hitting new records at our bars downtown, fortunately, but our costs have risen dramatically.”
A closed sign for Clifton’s Cafeteria.
(Eric Thayer / Los Angeles Times)
Clifton’s former backer, Meieran, says he doesn’t think things are going to bounce back enough to warrant more massive investment. He has sold the building, and the owner is looking for a new tenant to occupy Clifton’s space. He still controls the Clifton’s name.
While there is still a chance he could let someone else use the name Clifton’s, Meieran is done for now — too many bad memories.
“There was a guy who was terrorizing the front of Clifton’s because he decided he wanted to live in the vestibule in front, and he didn’t want us to operate there,” Meieran said. “He would threaten to kill anybody who came through.”
He doesn’t believe official statistics that show crime and homelessness are way down in the area, and he doesn’t want to restart a business when criminals can so easily erase his hard work.
“What business that’s already on thin margins can survive that?” he said.
Business
If you shop at Trader Joe’s, it may owe you $100
Trader Joe’s customers might soon get a payout from the popular grocery chain.
The Monrovia-based company agreed to a $7.4-million settlement in a class action lawsuit that claimed customers were left vulnerable to identity theft.
Customers who purchased items with a credit or debit card from March to July in 2019 might be eligible for a payment as part of the settlement.
The plaintiff alleged that some receipts printed in 2019 included 10-digit credit or debit card numbers —double what’s allowed under the Fair and Accurate Credit Transactions Act.
Trader Joe’s “vigorously denies any and all liability or wrongdoing whatsoever,” the grocery chain said in the settlement website. The grocery chain decided to settle to avoid a long and costly litigation process.
The payout will go toward paying impacted customers as well as attorney fees and other expenses.
About $2.6 million will go toward attorney fees, and the plaintiff will receive a $10,000 incentive payment, according to the settlement. The remaining funds will be distributed evenly among customers who submit valid claims.
It’s unclear how much money each customer would get, but the payout could be about $102, according to the settlement notice.
To receive the payout, customers must have received a receipt displaying the first six and last four digits of the card number.
Some customers identified as part of the settlement class have been notified and received a class ID number to file a claim.
Customers have from now until June 6 to file a claim online or by phone.
A customer not identified in the settlement can still submit a claim by entering the first six and last four digits of the card used, along with the date it was used at Trader Joe’s.
Brian Keim, the plaintiff who brought the case, used his debit card at stores in Florida in 2019. He said some stores printed transaction receipts that included the first six and last four digits of customers’ card numbers.
The receipts did not include other personal information, such as the middle digits of the users’ cards, the cards’ expiration dates, or the users’ addresses. No customer has reported identity theft as a result of the receipts since the lawsuit was filed, the grocer said.
However, identity theft doesn’t require submitting a claim for payment.
The settlement was agreed upon by both the grocer and the plaintiff, but still has to be approved by a court. A hearing is set in August.
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