Everything Is a Damn Subscription Now

 

Everything Is a Damn Subscription Now — And I’m Over It

You ever wake up one day and realize you’re basically renting your entire life? Because that’s where we are now. Every single thing we use, buy, click, smell, or even think about suddenly comes with a membership plan. I’m starting to think the only thing left that doesn’t require a monthly subscription is oxygen — and don’t worry, someone in Silicon Valley is already working on “Air+ Premium.”

Remember when you could just buy something? Like a normal human? Yeah, me neither. Somehow we blinked, and Walmart decided we need Walmart+. So now I can pay them extra for the privilege of giving them money faster. Amazon saw that and said, “Hold my beer,” and hit us with Prime, Prime Video, Prime Music, Prime Wardrobe — I’m waiting for Amazon Prime Breathing, where Jeff Bezos syncs my lungs to the cloud.

Target didn’t want to feel left out, so they tossed in their own deals, memberships, rewards, circles, triangles, octagons — at this point I feel like I’m playing a subscription-based board game every time I buy toilet paper.

But it doesn’t stop there. Oh no.
We stepped into full-on subscription hell.

Netflix started this mess. They really did. First they made us pay monthly. Then they raised the price… every six minutes. Then they added ads. Then they removed shows we were watching. Then they looked at Paramount+, Hulu, Peacock, Max, Apple TV, Disney+, Crunchyroll, ESPN+, Showtime, and every new streaming service and said, “Let’s all confuse the hell out of everyone and scatter shows like Pokémon cards.”

Paramount+ alone has like twelve versions.
Disney+ keeps dropping prices and raising them again like it’s a mood swing.
Peacock exists for some reason.
And Netflix keeps asking, “Are you still watching?” Yes, Netflix, I’m still watching — I’m paying $18.99 a month, don’t judge me.

Even the stuff that makes no sense has subscriptions now.
Want to use Photoshop? Subscription.
Want to listen to music? Subscription.
Want to play a game? Subscription.
Want your car to have heated seats? BMW said, “That’ll be $18 a month.”

Pretty soon, Ford is going to make turn signals subscription-based. That would explain why no one uses them anymore.

And don’t get me started on apps. Everything is an app with a “free version,” which is basically useless, and then the “Pro version,” which unlocks the thing the app was actually supposed to do in the first place. You download a flashlight app and suddenly it wants $4.99 a month to shine brighter.

Then you’ve got grocery stores trying to get in on the action. Kroger, Hy-Vee, Safeway — all of them have “clubs” now. You want the sale price? Better sign up, give them your email, your phone number, your DNA sample, and the rights to your firstborn child.

You know what I want?
A subscription that consolidates all my other subscriptions.
Just one bill. One price. One place.
Call it: Please Stop Taking My Money+.

And let’s talk about updates. We used to buy a thing, and that thing stayed the same forever. Now, you buy something, and next month they push an update that removes features you liked, adds features you don’t want, and breaks everything else. Then they offer a subscription to “fix it.” It’s like buying a dog, and every few weeks the vet shows up and says, “Sorry, your dog is changing formats. To keep the tail, that’ll be $4.99 monthly.”

I swear, half of these companies don’t even sell products anymore — they sell access to products. You’re no longer a customer; you’re a hostage with automatic billing.

And look, I’m not against progress. I like convenience. I like not having to leave the house for toilet paper. But can we please stop pretending subscriptions are saving us money? They’re not. They're multiplying like rabbits on caffeine. One day you sit down with your bank statement and realize you’re subscribed to:

• Walmart+

• Amazon Prime

• Netflix

• Hulu

• Paramount+

• Peacock

• Disney+

• Max

• Spotify

• Apple Music

• DoorDash

• Instacart

• Some random app you don’t remember downloading

And suddenly you’re paying $312 a month for stuff you barely use.

The truth is this: companies figured out subscriptions are the best way to get money without us noticing. And we just keep saying “Well… it’s only $9.99.”
Yeah, until you have forty of them.

But hey, if they ever make a subscription that pays me for existing, I’m signing up immediately. Call it “Human+.”

Until then?
I’m one forgotten password away from canceling everything and going back to DVDs and candles.