I could begin this article so many ways, but the truth of the matter last week was I screwed up. I made the rookie mistake of glancing at my bank statement. Let’s face it there are few things worse than checking your bank account.
Online banking sits right up there with trips to the dentist and digital currency.
What it Showed me was what I would generously call financial irresponsibility: I had paid for over 17 subscriptions. They were all greedily sucking away my money with every ounce of evil intent that organized vampirism could muster.
How did things get so bad? Allow me to explain how I became a person who pays monthly for workout videos I never watch, meditation sessions I don’t attend, and four streaming services, each of which only carry about two shows that I like. Allow me to preface this story with some background.
I first subscribed to Netflix many years ago. Long before streaming came to mean fragmentation. Netflix, at the time, was Netflix.
The idea that I could sit at home and watch as many movies as I wanted without dealing with that teenage grease-monkey at the video store was heaven. Boy do things feel justified when you can bundle services together. When the great fragmentation occurred Overnight my favorite shows became divided among countless services like refugees of a digital Berlin wall what happened was each show went their separate way with their own monthly fees attached.
“You want to watch that new docuseries everyone is talking about? $8.99 a month thanks. Oh and that movie you’ve been waiting to watch?
Sorry, that’s on our competitors service who will happily charge you $12.99.”
Before I knew it Netflix, Hulu, Prime Video, and then something called “Streamorama” started showing up on my statement. I don’t even remember downloading the latter, but it has joyously stolen $9.99 from me each month for over a year and a half. It’s not just streaming services either.
I spend money on a music streaming service because I know I deserve better music I listen to the same 20 songs that I loved in 1997 over and over again. I’m paying for cloud services to store pictures I’ll never look at. I pay for premium news that mainly alerts me to celebrity breakups and updates on the weather.
I forgot to cancel my monthly coffee bean delivery…yum I am literally paying for things I do not use. I don’t even own a coffee grinder. I cannot throw away the bags because now my pantry looks like I have a caffeine obsessive compulsive disorder.
This particular subscription got me. Over time it’s price has increased while my desire to drink that fancy coffee has gone down the drain. When you break each charge down they seem so small and harmless.
Oh how easy it is to justify spending ridiculous amounts of money. Sure I can afford maybe one coffee but listen at what I am NOT getting. Nothing, that’s what I get.
I get the possibility of maybe using that service in the future… someday. But we both know that won’t happen. Earlier this year I discovered I was paying for two different password managers.
TWO. TWO password managers for my 17 other subscriptions that I feel compelled to pay for every month. Paying for a service to monitor how many other subscriptions you are paying for is so meta.
I thought I was good with money. Mocked others when they’d frivolously spend money tossing dollars around on things they didn’t need. Today I found myself a contributing member to an entire economy built off of kicking you when you’re down.
A Subscription to everything we all know how companies love their subscriptions. There’s something about the psychology of subscription games that I will never understand. The illusion of always having something new.
For a small monthly fee you can proudly tell people you own a premium weather app. Think about that, weather you can brag about! Weather that’s just a little bit better than what everyone else can access for free.
Wow what luxury! Companies have mastered the subscription process. Auto-Renewals are my personal favorite because they’re basically robbery legalized by corporations.
“Sign up today for a new service and enjoy a FREE trial for 30 days!”
Of course they know we’re amazing at signing up for free stuff and horrible at canceling. I now set a phone reminder that notifies me three weeks before my subscriptions end so I can deal with the strenuous process of actually canceling. Speaking of canceling, let’s talk about the cancellation process: a work of art.
Genius really, how companies strategize the customer journey of canceling your service. The cancellation process is an obstacle course designed to make you pay for another month…
What you don’t use. Each company has their own unique take on the labyrinth that is canceling, but let’s explore a popular take my meditation app.
Complete with only two exits. Did you change your settings to not make any changes? Great job!
You’ve now been directed to a dead end that audits your account information with a big ol’ button that blatantly says “go right”. Find the “manage subscription” button that doesn’t make anyone using it facepalms. “It’s at the bottom of the page and formatted in gray font so small you can barely read it.” After clicking through 3 screens that you FULLY acknowledge by reading you’re too busy to even glance at the notifications hosted on these pages.
Each page refreshes the tone sadness and hopelessness in their voice. Each one worse than the last as you transition from screen to screen. Fortunately for you, the sadness dissipates once you reach the triumphant ending sending you a confirmation email that makes you feel like you just beat up a puppy for no reason.
Hey don’t listen to them they want your money, “we’re sorry to see you go.” If they wanted me to feel that why did I feel like I was breaking up with my significant other who I had watched cry about their addiction to these services for the last year? The worst part is I get it. Subscriptions have a certain charm to them that most will never understand.
The lure of always having something new. Access to something that makes you feel like you’re special even if it’s just for a couple bucks a month. What does $4.99 buy you a year?
Enough personalized coffee creamer to outfit every Squad member’s Starbucks favorites list. For coffee creamer folks! With all these cool benefits that subscriptions offer I have even categorized my subscriptions into tiers of guilt.
The first tier includes subscriptions that I pay for and use regularly. This is your small collection of subscriptions. The second tier are subscriptions that I use occasionally and are constantly debating if they’re worth the money.
Tier 3 my friends… drum roll please… are subscriptions I should be paying more attention to. The subscriptions you forget you have until you see that little charge every month and feel a mixture of anger and embarrassment. My journey into the hell that is subscriptions led me to another grim discovery.
Some companies actually do not want you to be able to cancel online. No they want you to call a phone number Monday through Friday only to speak to a “customer retention expert”. Customer retention expert, what a nice way to say we don’t want you to leave so we’re going to make this process as unpleasant as possible.
Last week I spent 30 minutes on the phone with one of these “experts” because I had to explain to her yet again that no I don’t want to place my subscription on hold. Also, no your 10% discount will not sway me and yes I am still going to cancel my box of artisanal snacks delivered to my office every month even if I may one day find myself in a desperate enough situation that only your ultra fancy selection of crackers could cure. I canceled seven subscriptions.
I also found three that I didn’t know I was paying for. One of which was a “premium” dictionary app that had been taking me for $3.99 a month for two years. What was I doing with a digital dictionary?
Why was I spending money on a dictionary when I could buy multiple physical dictionaries for that price. Nice ones too, with golden lettering and that little thumb index you’re supposed to use. You know what’s crazy about the subscription model?
How it took away the feeling of ownership. You used to buy something and it was yours. It was that simple.
One decision one payment and you owned something physical. Now all you do is make the decision to subscribe and let the system do the rest. By automatically taking your money over and over again.
Subscriptions take the default from “I want to own this so let me pay for it” to “Oh this already paid for itself why would I cancel?” The psychology even works with how we look at the prices. Spending $9.99 a month is something your brain can easily forget about. Where as that upfront price of $120 hits you right in the feels.
While yes the monthly subscription will cost you just as much as handing over $120. That $120 payment will always mentally upset you more. Some companies like to push the fact that you can pay less if you pay yearly.
Mind trapping you into paying money you may not have even decided you wanted to spend yet. All because they promise you “lower costs” when you decide to pay the entire year. Did I mention I love physical products that only required me to pay once at a set value?
No I want to enjoy the best of both worlds. As a consumer I love the subscription model. I get to try new things and if I don’t like it I just don’t renew!
But as my bank account weeps every month I know there has to be more I can do. I’ve decided I’m going to enact a new policy for myself: one subscription in one subscription out. For every new service I sign up for I will cancel another.
I like to call this subscription management, but what I like to think of this as preventing my bank account from being drained by dozens of monthly services I’ll never use. I also made another calendar reminder that will appear every three months prompting me to evaluate all of my subscriptions. This isn’t just a friendly reminder to see how my spending habits are or how well I forget about needless purchases.
It’s also a physical list that I printed out and placed on my refrigerator. You see as I check things off this glorious list I’m assaulted with every bad decision that led me to subscribe to “Sock of the Month.”
I hate socks Joe!
Every time I go to grab the milk I am reminded of how easy it is for companies to trick you.
Unfortunately, I’ve got plans to cancel another three subscriptions this weekend. That’s right three more companies I will never miss taking roughly 35 dollars away from me each month. Enough for me to buy a decent bottle of whiskey to forget how angry I am that I spent all this money on services that don’t give me even remotely a satisfying experience all while I have NOTHING TO SHOW FOR IT.
Cheers to the subscription economy. May you persist through all of our economies and continuously leech us dry with new subscription services with fees we don’t notice until it’s too late.
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