We Tracked One Family’s Subscriptions for a Year. They’d Be Richer Without Them.

The Johnsons thought they were pretty good with money. They budgeted. They saved. They avoided credit card debt. And like most American families, they had “a few subscriptions.”

When I asked them to guess how many, Sarah Johnson thought for a moment. “Maybe ten?” she said. “Netflix, Spotify, Amazon Prime… the usual stuff.”

Her husband David nodded. “Yeah, probably around there.”

They were off by 70%.

The Real Number

When the Johnsons actually sat down and listed every subscription they were paying for, the total came to 34.

Thirty-four recurring charges, ranging from $2.99 to $89.99 per month, hitting their credit cards at various intervals. Some were annual. Some were monthly. Some they’d forgotten about entirely.

“I had no idea,” Sarah said, staring at the spreadsheet we’d created. “I mean, I knew we had subscriptions, but… thirty-four?”

The monthly total: $847. That’s $10,164 per year. For context, that’s more than the Johnsons were putting into their retirement accounts.

And they were just getting started.

How Did This Happen?

The subscription economy didn’t arrive overnight. It crept in, one $9.99 charge at a time.

Remember when you bought software once and owned it forever? Now you rent Photoshop for $22/month. Remember when you bought albums? Now you rent access to Spotify’s library for $10.99. Remember when you bought cars? Now you can subscribe to a car service that gives you access to vehicles you don’t own.

“It’s the convenience,” said David. “I don’t want to think about whether I need something. I just want it to work.”

But that convenience has a cost. And the cost is that you’re no longer making conscious decisions about what you value. You’re just… subscribing.

The Plot Twist

Here’s what surprised me: when the Johnsons canceled half their subscriptions, they didn’t feel deprived. They felt relieved.

“I thought I’d miss things,” Sarah said. “But I don’t even remember what most of them were.”

They kept Netflix. They kept Spotify. They kept the gym membership they actually use. But the meditation app they opened twice? Gone. The meal planning service that sent recipes they never cooked? Canceled. The cloud storage for photos they never looked at? Deleted.

“It was like decluttering, but for my bank account,” Sarah said. “And just like with physical clutter, I didn’t miss any of it.”

The Johnsons aren’t alone. A growing movement of consumers is doing what financial advisors call a “subscription audit”—going through every recurring charge and asking: does this still serve me?

The Revolt Is Growing

There’s even an app for it now. Several, actually. Services like Truebill, Trim, and SubscriptMe will scan your accounts, identify all your subscriptions, and help you cancel the ones you don’t want.

“We processed over $2 billion in canceled subscriptions last year,” said the CEO of one such service. “And that’s just the people who know about us. The real number is probably ten times that.”

But the revolt isn’t just about canceling. It’s about changing how we think about ownership.

What This Means for the Future

The subscription economy isn’t going away. For some things—software, media, services—it makes sense. But for others, we’re starting to question whether renting everything is really better than owning some things.

“I bought a used car,” said David. “First time in five years. It felt weird, like I was doing something old-fashioned. But you know what? I like knowing it’s mine.”

The Johnsons are part of a broader trend: consumers who are tired of being perpetual renters, who want to own their stuff, their media, their lives.

“I’m not anti-subscription,” Sarah said. “I’m just pro-intentionality. I want to choose what I pay for, not just let it happen to me.”