Frugaling

Save more, live well, give generously

Think Outside The Subscription Box

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Think Outside The Subscription Box

“Show someone you care with a random box of stuff this holiday season.”
— CNNMoney

There’s Graze, Birchbox, Barkbox, Brobox, Dollar Shave Club, Trunk Club, Blue Apron, and now, there’s Minimalism & Co.’s new minimalist themed subscription box. Each box has their own flavors, qualities, and featured products. Some use corporate partnerships to market products through these boxes, while others are hand-selected items by the box creator. These subscriptions can include makeup, food, and much more.

The subscription model is usually set at one box per month, but this varies between companies. The prices range from $25 to $100s each month. If you’re using Blue Apron — a meal preparation service — you’ll likely sign up for more regular deliveries. Although, Minimalism & Co. sends their box once every quarter (3 months). Regardless, once you sign up, you’ll be getting regular deliveries of unexpected “gifts.” It’s like getting a surprise present each month!

However, there’s another way of looking at this subscription craze. To mindlessly subscribe and receive trinkets, makeup, and/or men’s grooming products seems to be the epitome of conspicuous consumption. It’s unclear who might need these products; I mean, truly need a product received through a subscription box.

Initial subscriptions are often discounted to make the first box free or inexpensive. Subscription services know that once they have someone on the trial, they’re more likely to continue using their product and/or try it again at a later date. And even if you were done with the service, you might not want to go through the terrible phone trees and/or automatic email exchanges to get your cancellation confirmed. All the while, you’re spending money, adding clutter, and struggling to cancel the onslaught.

Subscription boxes have made minimalism, orderliness, and frugality harder. Fortunately, there’s an alternative to this madness. Today, I want to introduce a solution to effortless consumption. In fact, I’ve come up with a clever name for the subscription, too: “ByeBox.”

Our worries will be solved. It starts with a nearly empty box. When you subscribe to ByeBox, you receive nothing but a cardboard box and a piece of paper. Isn’t that revolutionary and minimal!? And there’s no need to be careful when carrying the box into your house, as there’s nothing to break. Once you’ve opened up the box to see no goodies, makeup, razors, grooming products, or exotic foods from Chile, you can prepare for a far more intentional decision.

Written on the 8.5 by 11-inch paper is a simple request: “Pick something from your house that you once wanted/desired, but no longer find enjoyment or need. Place it in box and ship it back to ByeBox for another empty box!” It’s just that simple!

We are faced with countless opportunities to spend and collect every day. Surprisingly, many have embraced subscription boxes and taken to spending outsized proportions on tchotchkes that provide little value to our lives. My idea — ByeBox — might be a joke, but wouldn’t this make more sense to those working to live a minimal and frugal lifestyle? The harder decision always seems to be fighting against the mode of consumption — to find ways to minimize by going without and throwing out.

We’ve Outsourced Our Lives

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Outsourced food preparation meals

Michael Pollan likes to talk about food. In fact, he’s written six books on the subject. Some of his highly reviewed books include Omnivore’s Dilemma, In Defense of Food, and Food Rules. Amazingly, Netflix caught on to Pollan’s popularity and turned his latest book — Cooked — into a series.

Cooked is about the transformation from raw to cooked foods. This simple difference is what Pollan thinks distinguishes man from the rest of the animal kingdom. He’s got a point: we love our cooked food. The flavors ignite. Further, when we cook food we chew less and do more than eat all day.

In the first episode of the Netflix series, Pollan explains how hunting, farming, and scavenging have all been outsourced. We’ve simplified the process of eating on every level. Corporate giants have vertically integrated food prep and delivery with surprising efficiency. From frozen meals to prepackaged sandwiches, everything has been prepared for us. For example, the turkey has been raised, fed, slaughtered, plucked, deboned, frozen, thawed, sliced, seasoned, and placed. We don’t see the life and death — we’ve outsourced everything.

The reasons for the decline in food production and cooking are multifaceted. It seems work and productivity have motivated us to pursue this path. Imagine the busy lawyer or medical doctor having a catered lunch because they are “too busy” to prepare and eat. We accept this in society — hell, we encourage it. We accept there’s a certain class of people who cannot “afford” to spend the time making food. And we accept that people should specialize until they merely focus on their vocational tasks.

As the episode unfolded, my appreciation of food outsourcing shifted more globally. I thought about what else gets outsourced. Our society has taken almost everything off of our plates so that we can focus more time on other activities. We continue to specialize well beyond food.

The decline of manufacturing in America can largely be seen as an effort to reduce costs, time, and environmental burden on the countries that now produce. We’ve outsourced the “negatives” and taken the cost savings. Comically, we criticize China for using so many coal-fired power plants and then click buy on our new computer, coffee maker, smartphone, etc. — all made in China.

We’ve outsourced reading longer books and research to journalists and even computer algorithms. Now, people read books for us and distill what we need to know — what’s most important. Consequently, this means we get a synthesized perspective of a book. It’s like playing the telephone game through articles, but most of the time we read that review to understand the book.

Even budgeting and financial management are thrown to others. We use Mint.com or other financial software to manage and update us about spending. There’s no need to balance a checkbook anymore — I’m not sure if I’d even know how. We trust financial advisers and/or digital facsimiles to manage everything for us. We’ve got better, more important things to focus on!

More and more, we watch sports and reality TV shows instead of playing outside and engaging in our own relationships. The drama of a royal, elite families and others’ lives encapsulates our attention, as those nearest us seem to wane. Many watch the throw, shot, or pass, but I’m not sure how many are making that throw, shot, or pass themselves anymore.

Even in academic circles, professors and graduate students are using other people to do their statistical analysis. Academics can even outsource their statistical analysis to India for further review and completion. Afterwards, with a nice, clean result in hand, researchers can write up the interpretations — or pay another person to do that part.

And as I type these words, they’re being stored in a cloud server for safekeeping, backup, and preparation for publication on my website. Both the cloud and website servers are miles and miles away from me. I’ll never see the computers, nor would I need to. I’ve outsourced these storage needs — someone else is handling them for me.

Again, I settle on this simple conclusion: we’ve embraced the streamlining of our lives for the purpose of efficiency. But what is this efficiency for? Is it so that we can focus on work more? Is it so that we can make more money? Is it so we can relax more?

Absent of answers, I wonder where we’ll be in a few decades. When asked questions about our personality and identities and hobbies, will we reply that we enjoy watching and reading others’ accounts of life? Will we effectively outsource our identities to the TV shows, movies, and reviews of reviews?

Special: Spring Break Sale On My Book!

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Frugaling Book Cover

Finally, after another long winter, the sun’s out and weather is getting warmer. For many students, this week or the next represent a wonderful respite from the rest of the semester. Or, in other terms, it’s Spring Break! From beaches to family visits, the fun begins soon! Meanwhile, I’ll be having a “staycation” and working throughout the week. Isn’t it fun getting older?

Regardless, I wanted to celebrate in my own special way. Over the entire week of Spring Break — March 13th through the 20th — I’ve created a sale for my book, Frugaling: Save more, live well, give generously! Regularly priced at $2.99, the book will be available for $0.99, and if you’re an Amazon Prime or Kindle Unlimited subscriber, it’s free.

The book took years to make, as it was a compilation of all my essays and stories. Additionally, I added special notes and updated articles to reflect new ideas and changes. I poured my heart into making it a special, light, fun read — perfect for a little time away from textbooks.

I hope it’ll inspire you to become more frugal and live intentionally. If you enjoy the book, please share it with others and give a review on Amazon. I’d love your feedback!

Thanks for being a faithful reader.

Stay frugal,

Sam

We’re Addicted To Square Footage

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Minimalism in space

I live in a 900-square-foot, two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment. Each bedroom has a full bathroom, a closet, and area for a desk. The kitchen is relatively large with a dishwasher, stove and oven, large sink, washer and dryer, and full refrigerator. A living room hosts a couch, chair, table, and television. The ceilings are expansive and tall; not palatial, but more than necessary. Maybe it’s just my “phase of life,” but this space feels like more than enough. What more could I need?

At 27 years old, I make enough to live. My salary is just over $20,000 each year. I can’t really save much considering the costs of my education and ancillary costs, but I’m happy with what I have. There’s room for improvement, but as I look at my apartment and stuff, I can’t help but feel embarrassed by the relative opulence. Most of the world doesn’t have it this good. I have everything I need right now.

If I were married, the apartment would actually feel even larger, too. Currently, my roommate’s stuff occupies a solid half of the apartment. If it was just my partner and I, we would share the same space, and only need one bedroom. The other room could become an office, dayroom — whatever! Heck, it could be a walk-in closet for all I care!

Over 900 square feet, I would begin to feel the creep of growth — the push to fill space whenever emptiness is present. Whether it’s my philosophical values of frugality or minimalism or a desire to minimize my carbon impact, I’d hesitate to grow beyond these walls. They wouldn’t be necessary.

However, it’s important to consider whether my tendency toward extremism is getting the best of me. Could there be a time in life when 900 square feet might not be enough? Potentially. If I had a larger family or needed to make room for my parents or some other unique situation arose, I could see the need. But it would be temporary to expand to the need of others, not constant space for the rest of my life. I’d want to downsize again.

Last week, I was reading an article in The New York Times about couples who had moved decades ago into the suburbs surrounding New York City. Some had moved into large bungalows and McMansions to raise families, enjoy the slower life, and have more room to grow.

One family raised three children in a 2,400-square-foot home. For those struggling with math like me, that’d be 5 people — 3 more than my roommate and I. With about 500 square feet per resident, the house could probably be quite a comfortable location. When accounting for the size of the home, it doesn’t include off-site storage, yards, and/or storage sheds that can be added later.

Now, later in life and three adult children, this family is looking to downsize and move back to the city, culture, and bustle of Manhattan. Who can blame them, too? New York City is fun — there’s always something to do, eat, and see. But as that couple looked for locations, they came up empty. They said all they could find were “depressing,” “very small” places at 900 square feet.

My jaw dropped at the statement. I was shocked! Here I’ve been living in apartments of 900 or less square feet for about 4 years; yet, this couple was struggling to move into such a space. What was I missing?!

Here’s what I suspect:

  1. People develop and find a comfort in abundance. To downsize may be a reflection of lost class and status.
  2. There’s a fear of giving up and away. Some material goods might not keep us alive, but are still hard to part with.
  3. Despite a “couple’s” desire to downsize, there might be discrepancies. Making a move up, down, or laterally isn’t always mutually agreed upon in the relationship. Those contrasting aspects can prevent people from committing to a serious downsize.
  4. We reach an adaptational level, which sets a new normal. Anything less just doesn’t feel “right.”
  5. Surrounded by a culture of mass and materialism, it’s hard to buck that trend and go small.

The reality is smaller spaces are freeing for people young and old. Not having lots of material goods and space means you can vacation when you want, dig into more expensive cultures, and enjoy a break from endless chores. And more importantly, plenty of normal, average, everyday people live in small spaces with great efficiency (Just look at this couple who lives in a beautiful, 420-square-foot apartment).

For years, magazines, newspapers, and all other forms of media have stressed how wealthy people buy opulent homes. Tens of millions of dollars are spent to afford these palaces. From Bill Gates to Ellen DeGeneres, these homes capture our attention. Don’t we want to be successful just like them?

Rather than duplicate this display of status, we can choose another path. What if we looked for the smallest apartments or homes? What if we looked for less? What if we looked for tiny, modular apartments that move and shift to our needs? What if we gave up our cultural addiction to more stuff in favor the culture out there?

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