There’s a feeling I just can’t shake lately. It’s that slow, creeping sensation that everywhere you go, someone is looking at you as a walking wallet to be squeezed. It’s the feeling that the "fair go" has been replaced by a "what more can we get?" mentality.

We’re all feeling the pinch. Groceries cost a fortune, the petrol pump is a place of terror, and a night out can require a small personal loan. We get it, things are expensive. But what’s really starting to grate isn’t just the high cost of things, but the relentless, grubby nickel-and-diming that seems to pop up at every turn. It’s the sneaky fees, the hidden charges, and the feeling that you’re being played for a fool.

We had a perfect example of this on a recent trip to magnificent Bruny Island in Tasmania. We drove down to the Cape Bruny Lighthouse, a stunning piece of our national heritage. Pulling into the carpark, we were immediately required to pay for our Tasmania Parks and Wildlife Pass – fair enough. It was around $50, and you tell yourself, "Okay, these beautiful, wild places need maintenance, and we're happy to contribute." You pay the fee, you park the car, and you start the walk towards the lighthouse, kids in tow, excited for the view.

And that’s when they get you.

After the walk, standing at the base of this historic structure, you see the sign. To actually walk up the lighthouse – essentially, to climb a few flights of stairs inside a stone cylinder – would be an additional $100 for our family of four.

One hundred dollars. To climb some stairs.

Let’s be clear, this isn’t a whinge about the hardworking folks who maintain the site. But the feeling it leaves is just... grubby. It feels like a classic bait-and-switch. You’re cornered into paying the initial park entry fee before you even leave the carpark, with no clear, upfront communication that the main attraction you’ve just paid to see will cost you a fortune more to actually experience. It sours the whole moment. The spectacular view is tainted by the feeling that you’ve been expertly fleeced. You're a captive audience, and they know it.

Sadly, the Cape Bruny Lighthouse isn’t an isolated case. It’s just a particularly blatant example of a trend that’s spreading like wildfire.

This sense of being locked out and monetised extends beyond just hidden fees. Take the growing hostility towards recreational drone users by our own park services.

Many of us have invested in drones to capture the stunning beauty of our own country from a new perspective. Yet, organisations like Parks Victoria and the Tasmania Parks and Wildlife Service (and most of their interstate cousins) have implemented blanket bans on recreational drone use.

Want to fly your drone as a commercial operator? Well, that’s a different story. If you’re willing to pay the fees and navigate a circus of hoops and red tape, the doors may just open for you. The official line is often about protecting wildlife and preserving the visitor experience, which are valid concerns. But when a commercial operator can pay for the privilege, it stops feeling like a conservation principle and starts feeling like a revenue-raising one. It sends a clear message: your hobby is a nuisance, but your money is welcome. It’s another way the average Aussie is being locked out of enjoying their own backyard, unless they’re willing to pay a premium.

How long until we charged a fee to look at these guys?

I love this country. I love exploring its towns, and breathtaking national parks. But I’m growing tired of feeling like every organisation, from government services to private companies, is devising new and creative ways to gouge me.

This view wasn't free, it also required a Tassy Parks pass to use the carpark.

It’s death by a thousand cuts. A hundred-dollar staircase here, a drone ban there, a sneaky surcharge, a hidden park pass fee somewhere else. It chips away at your goodwill until all you’re left with is suspicion and frustration.