The Subscription Apocalypse: How We Became Digital Renters

In this sardonic deep dive, Donovan exposes the dark underbelly of the subscription economy that's slowly bleeding us dry $12.99 at a time. From forgotten meditation apps to the streaming service wars, discover how we transformed from proud owners into perpetual renters in just one decade. Learn why that "cancel anytime" button is harder to find than inner peace, why your bank statement looks like a crime scene, and how subscription creep turned your monthly expenses into death by a thousand cuts. Through razor-sharp wit (self-flattery) and uncomfortable truths, Donovan breaks down how the subscription economy grew 350% in the last decade, turning everything from software to underwear into a monthly payment plan. Whether you're drowning in streaming subscriptions or just discovered you're still paying for that meditation app you opened twice in 2022, this episode is your wake-up call to the reality of modern digital serfdom.

Perfect for: Anyone who's ever wondered why they're paying for 17 different streaming services to watch three shows, or who's tired of being in a toxic relationship with their subscription services. Listen in to laugh, learn, and maybe cry a little about the state of modern consumerism.

Transcript

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Recording from the bowels a subscription-based meditation app server farm where enlightenment is $9.99 a month and peace of mind is as fleeting as the free trial, it's your host Donovan. Welcome back, fellow debt-ridden digital serfs to Deep Dives in the Shallow End, where we dissect the absurdities of modern life, hoping that our sanity hasn't been locked behind a paywall yet. I'm Donovan, your not-so-expert host here to navigate the treacherous waters of late-stage capitalism because today, we're diving into the subscription economy. that glorious rent-your-life scam that lets you pay monthly for the privilege of forgetting you're paying it all. It's like a gym membership, but for everything in your life. Except instead of tone traps and glorious glutes, you get slowly deflating bank accounts and self-esteem with an ever-increasing likelihood that your family history of high blood pressure will one day bless you with the kind of cerebrovascular event that helps you forget both your financial woes and your kids' names. Ain't progress just grand? Let's start with the basics. What is the subscription economy? Well, imagine a world where you own nothing but owe everyone. Now stop imagining and take a quick glance at your diner's club bill because you're living in it, Jack. Gone are the days when you bought something once and just owned it forever. Like when buying a home in your 30s wasn't just a biting punchline. Now you have your soul chipped away 12.99 at a time by our corporate overlords. In the last decade the subscription economy has grown over 350%. with an increasing number of companies adopting the model to boost predictable revenue. Platforms like Zora have reported billions flowing through subscription services across industries from entertainment like Netflix and Spotify, to health like Peloton and Calm, and everyday essentials like Dollar Shave Club and Quip, which is apparently for toothbrushes. This essentially means we now get the joy of perpetual payments for the pretense of proprietorship. Life itself has become one elaborate pay-to-play scheme, and guess what? We're the suckers. Remember when software came in a box and once you paid for it, you owned it? Now you're paying a monthly fee to Microsoft for the privilege of using Word because writing that daily unsent shove it letter to your boss with a tight lip smile concealing your gridded teeth requires a recurring payment. This shift of course aligns with the widespread rise of the software as a service model. Companies have discovered that renting software not only increases profit margins, but also makes it easier to update, maintain, and inevitably frustrate users globally. Microsoft 365 and Adobe being leading examples, companies have doubled or even tripled their revenue by switching from one-time purchases to recurring subscriptions. But why stop at software? Now you can subscribe to shaving cream from Harry's, underwear from MeUndies, and air fresheners from Pura. because nothing says I've made it quite like having an algorithm accurately determine when I'm ready for a fresh pair of cheeky-cut undies. I always dreamed that one day I'd pay Jeff Bezos a monthly fee to keep my bikini line fresh. You know, perhaps I should start leaving more to the imagination. But now, dear listeners, that dystopian dream is a reality. Progress is starting to feel more like a series of increasingly absurd humiliations, like the American political landscape. And then, of course, there are streaming services. Remember cable TV that bloated whale carcass of a service with its 500 channels of which you cared about 8? Well, great news. Now instead of one overpriced cable bill, you get to pay for 17 different streaming services to watch one show on each. You've got Disney Plus for The Mandalorian, HBO Max for Succession, and Apple TV for Ted Lasso. Each service holding a favorite show hostage until you've sold another piece of your soul for a monthly fee. It's like playing Russian roulette with your bank account every time you remember you signed up for Peacock because god forbid you miss an installment of Couple to Thrupple. And remember that series of increasingly absurd humiliations I mentioned? Well, I don't care what you think. I refuse to miss Nicolas Cage's more recent body of artistic treasures, so now I'm in the unenviable position of paying $7.99 a month for Tooby Pro, the exclusive provider of Nicolas Cage content. And by the way folks, the amazing streaming service Tooby has given deep dives an exclusive offer. The first 100 of my listeners to use the referral code room101, all one word, will enjoy a free 30-day trial where they can freely choose their own ads when viewing any Tubi or Tubi-adjacent content. That's Tubi. Hashtag Tubi the Benevolent, hashtag Orwellian, hashtag advertisement. But ever since Netflix, over 200 different streaming platforms have popped up, each vying for a slice of the content pie like vultures circling over a limping gazelle. Industry analysts note that consumer spending on streaming has now surpassed traditional cable. Turns out market fragmentation was about as beneficial as piecing Humpty Dumpty back together with superglue and low blood sugar. We are predictably left with chaos and egg all over our faces. It's like a buffet where you end up paying twice as much to get half as full. But alright, let me give the devil their due for a brief moment. Much like a suppository, these subscription services do, albeit perhaps uncomfortably, have their place and some benefits. There are times that you can rent or subscribe to something that you genuinely need only temporarily. This kind of model is particularly useful for accessing high cost items like specialized software, like AutoCAD for a one-time design project, renting a high-powered drill for replacing your cabinets, or renting a car because the morons you still choose to hang out with from high school think it would be ironically hilarious to have a beach day in the middle of winter. And this model does allow for more consistency in a company's revenue stream by reducing the volatility that can come with one-time purchases. and this stability can lead to better pricing and opportunities for innovation. In a sense, subscriptions can democratize access by allowing consumers to use products and services that might otherwise be out of reach. My Lord, feel like I just read the legalese at the end of a commercial for the Climera patch. Ask your doctor if it's right for you. In any case, despite potential benefits, these services often become as exploitative as parental guilt. Case in point, subscriptions are often designed to be forgotten. They prey on our short attention spans and our convenience-driven lifestyles. Like me with my Economist subscription. I love the magazine, but what am I, a nerd? I don't know why I try to convince myself that I'm even going to read a five page article on the infantilization of Western culture. Hmm. Wait. Stand by for a future episode on the infantilization of Western culture. But these services are the financial equivalent of a slow cooker. You set it and forget it. only to wind up in jail over a long weekend because you tried driving home after enjoying one too many brandy alexanders at that fabulous over 50 speed dating night at the VA. But now, once you've been sprung from the clink, you find yourself weeping over the sink scraping out the charred remnants of what would have been a delicious summer squash and sausage stew. And that's what these services do. They start out as something promising, only to end up as an unexpected mess that you're left to clean up. It's so bad that studies indicate the average consumer spends over $200 per month on subscriptions they do not fully use or worse, have forgotten about entirely. In fact, a study by West Monroe found that 84% of people underestimate their monthly subscription spending by at least$100. Subscription creep means more and more of our meager disposable income is being siphoned off bit by bit without a second thought. The system is specifically designed to prey on our inattention. You want to live in the moment? Well, that's going to cost you, bub. And if you're not paying attention, that moment turns into years of bleeding cash for a service we haven't used since before we were all cooped up for a year with our loved ones where we realized, Oh my God, don't you just hate the way they show. But why stop at digital services? Now you can even subscribe to cars. Yes. Instead of owning a rapidly depreciating asset that sits idle 95% of the time, you can pay monthly for the privilege of briefly pretending you're still living the American dream at a dollar 99 a mile. It's like leasing, but with a lot less dignity and a lot more humiliation. Like the dirtbag who walks out of a rent-a-center with a big-screen television before his roommate drives him to his child support hearing in hopes of losing the ankle monitor so he can make it to the gathering of the juggalos. Sweet Jesus. As I look in the mirror, with my stack of unopened bank statements full of subscription services and full view, I realize I am that dirtbag. I am the Rube who pays $200 a month to the three-card Monte Dealer name subscription fees to feel a momentary sense of entertainment and control despite knowing that he's the one calling the shots. It's like rooting for the guy who steals your wallet because he does it with a bit of razzle dazzle and jazz hands. And let's not forget the cherry on top, the cancel anytime promise. Sure, you can cancel anytime, providing you're willing to fill out a form that's as dense as Anna Karenina in Triplicate and hand-deliver it to an address in the more remote part of Rapa Nui. Honestly, at that point, following Ms. Karinina's exit strategy sounds like a more palatable and dignified route. But hey, it's the freedom of choice, right? Where the ultimate choice is to keep paying indefinitely, because fleeing the FLDS in the middle of the night is easier than canceling the Wine of the Month club I thought would be a great idea after having two glasses of Shiraz while watching Sideways. Come to find out, wine is repellent, especially if you're footing the bill. It turns out that it takes consumers nearly 10 minutes to find the right link to cancel, assuming it's found at all. which means this is basically a life sentence for my grandparents. And when you do manage to escape, you're left feeling like you've been fleeced, but instead of the comforting wool robe you might expect from your sacrifice, you're gifted an itchy hair shirt of regret. Ultimately, the subscription economy is sold to us as a matter of convenience. No need to remember to buy things, they just show up, like magic. Like that ex who always seems to have your phone number no matter how many times you've changed it. And in both cases, you'll never have to worry about running out of sugar, or the ever-increasing number of terrifying, threatening 2am calls. Actively restocking is a distant memory. They're keeping such a close eye on all our data that somehow they've been able to connect my Instagram follows of countless cat accounts to when I'm going to need another pack of triple A's. And the jarring part? They always seem to be right. But wait, it gets better. Subscription services now have the nerve to demand loyalty. When we do actually cancel on them, they have the gall to hopped back up a few times a year to beg us to take them back. Like the boyfriend who lost 30 pounds and thought he could do better. Guess the 22 year olds at the club weren't interested in the guy in his late 30s with anger issues rocking embellished true religion jeans and an affliction t-shirt. Meanwhile, the one who had stuck with you is living her best life with some much deserved alone time, her plants, and freshly patched drywall. We miss you, here's a free month. Yeah, you miss me? Yeah. You miss siphoning cash from me like that river leech who sneakily attached himself to my perineum. That's not loyalty, that's just triggering financial Stockholm syndrome. And hilariously, if you do resubscribe, it's very possible that it will be at a higher rate than before. Because nothing reciprocates loyalty like charging you more for having the audacity to have once left. Guess you'll think about that twice in the future. It's like a toxic relationship, but with fewer forgive me flowers and more arbitrary fees. So what can we do? Well, Short of going off grid and pulling a Walden, we can start by looking at our bank statements. I know, I dread it too. They're like the horror movie killer whose call is coming from inside the house. And as easy as it is to look away, it's really important to assess your financial situation. So cancel what you don't need. There's a chance that some of my cancellation analogies have been slightly and only slightly hyperbolic. But if that meditation app is working wonders for you, then keep it. But if you've only opened it twice, then get rid of the damn thing. But truly consider if your inner piece is actually reliant on a $10 a month soundscape of crickets. Also, and this is not an ad, consider one of the many free virtual credit card services that tie to your bank account and have the ability to be easily canceled and open, pain-free without limits, that tends to make these services that are actually tricky to cancel a whole lot easier to do so. If you're interested, iuseprivacy.com, but there are others. Check them out though and do your due diligence. And again, that's not an ad and I have no ties with them whatsoever. And whenever possible, consider buying outright. While the subscription service can feel like a more budget-friendly monthly tap on the shoulder, in the long run, it is more like a financial exsanguination by a thousand cuts. Recent research suggests that long-term subscription use often results in spending that is two to five times what you would have paid for the original one-time purchase cost. The opportunities for true ownership are ever fleeting, so strike while the iron's hot because ownership is liberating. And every time you hit subscribe, remember, you're not just renting a product, you're buying into a system that wants to extract value from you as long as possible. We're slowly being mugged by VC bros who don't wanna take no for an answer. And just when you think you've managed to shake them off, they're ready to give you half off for three months. It's a reminder that they're always there waiting for you to slip. like a shameless dealer lurking outside a support group, just ready to exploit any weakness or pain points to latch back on like the financial parasites they are. I will admit that for some, it's just about avoiding the hassle of upkeep, and I get that. And I do believe in some of the subscription services like the medical and prescription services that exist to help aid those who may have otherwise been unable to easily access them. And if one can learn helpful skills like how to say more than Buenos Dias on your yearly trip to Spain from subscribing to an educational site, then maybe it's worth the monthly hit. But do try to be conscientious because the line between benefit and exploitation can be razor thin. And I will never claim to be above falling into these traps myself because I have and continue to do so despite the fact that the closest I've come to inner peace is that time I found the BOGO coupon for Domino's in my neighbor's mailbox. But look, I have a job to do here, so you know. rangers got a rant, and I haven't found the app that can teach me self-discipline for $4.99 a month yet. And that's our show folks. Thanks for tuning in to Deep Dives in the Shallow End. Double or triple check those subscriptions to cancel the services you don't use and have a strong think about whether or not you need the ones you do. Actually, do yourself a favor and instead of subscribing to 17 different ways to distract yourself, learn how to use Pirate Bay. It's still free. For now. Nah, I'm just kidding. So take care of yourselves and others, and I hope you will join me on the next episode of Deep Dives in the Shallow End. Deep dives in the shallow end