Death by a Thousand Subscriptions: The New Consumer Crisis

It started with Netflix. Just $7.99 a month back in 2010 — a bargain compared to cable. Mahesh barely noticed the charge on his credit card statement each month as he streamed his favorite shows from his apartment in Bangalore.

Fast forward to 2025. Mahesh sits at his kitchen table on a Sunday morning, a cup of chai growing cold beside him as he stares at his phone in disbelief. The notification reads: “Your Amazon Prime membership has increased to ₹1,999 per year.” He opens his banking app and begins to scroll through his recurring payments.

Netflix (now ₹649/month), Disney+ Hotstar (₹299/month), Spotify Premium (₹119/month), YouTube Premium (₹129/month), Swiggy (₹899/quarter), Zomato (₹200/month), Microsoft 365 (₹4,899/year), Adobe Creative Cloud (₹1,675/month), Times of India digital subscription (₹299/month), Airtel Xtreme(₹99/month), LinkedIn Premium(₹2,800/month), Google Workspace(₹800/month), OpenAI($23/month), Midjourney($23/month), Kindle Unlimited(₹169/month), Medium subscription($5/month), The Ken(₹4956/month), Canva Pro(₹4000/month), meditation app (₹499/month), cloud storage (₹750/year), and the language learning app he barely uses anymore (₹2,499/year).

That’s just the entertainment and productivity subscriptions. He hasn’t even counted his Cult.fit gym membership (₹2,999/month), or the premium tier of his banking app (₹199/month).

Across the world in Minneapolis, Eliza faces a similar reckoning. Her morning begins with a notification that her Peloton subscription is increasing from $44 to $48 per month. She opens her finance app and confronts the full picture: Netflix ($15.49), Hulu ($14.99), Disney+ ($10.99), Max ($16.99), Apple TV+ ($9.99), Paramount+ ($11.99), Amazon Prime ($139/year), Spotify ($10.99), YouTube Premium ($13.99), The New York Times ($25/month), The Washington Post ($10/month), The Athletic ($7.99/month), and her password manager ($35.88/year).

Her mobile game subscriptions add another $25 monthly, while her productivity tools — Microsoft 365 ($99.99/year), Dropbox ($9.99/month), and Canva Pro ($12.99/month) — chip away at her budget further.

Then there are the lifestyle subscriptions: her ClassPass membership ($79/month), her meditation app ($69.99/year), HelloFresh meal delivery ($11.99 per meal), her skincare subscription box ($50/month), and Amazon Subscribe & Save for household essentials ($35/month).

The subscription economy has transformed from convenience to crisis, one auto-renewal at a time.

In Hyderabad, Priya, a 32-year-old software engineer, recently audited her subscriptions after her rent increased. “I was shocked to find I had three different fitness apps I barely use — Cure.fit, HealthifyMe, and Nike Training Club Premium. Plus subscriptions to Headspace, Udemy, and MasterClass that I’d completely forgotten about.”

The subscription model has shifted from exception to expectation. Adobe once sold Creative Suite as a one-time purchase for $1,299. Now, Creative Cloud costs $54.99 monthly or $659.88 annually — forever. Microsoft Office became Microsoft 365. Ownership has been replaced by perpetual rental.

Even the most ordinary products have gone subscription. In New York, Michael pays $11 monthly for a Quip electric toothbrush subscription that automatically sends replacement heads. “It seemed convenient at first, but now I’m locked into their ecosystem. If I stop paying, my $50 toothbrush becomes just a fancy manual brush.”

In Chennai, Arjun subscribes to Urban Company’s UC Plus (₹999/year) for home services, Bluemart for groceries (₹99/month for free delivery), and even pays a subscription for his water purifier maintenance (₹4,999/year). “My father thinks I’m crazy. He says, ‘In my day, we bought things once and owned them forever.’”

The psychology behind subscription fatigue is deeper than simple budget concerns. A research found that consumers underestimate their total subscription spending by nearly 40%. Companies exploit this cognitive blind spot through what behavioral economists call “drip pricing” — breaking costs into seemingly small amounts that feel insignificant in isolation.

“When I look at each subscription individually, ₹199 here or ₹299 there doesn’t seem like much,” says Divya from Mumbai. “But when I added it all up, I was spending over ₹14,000 monthly on subscriptions. That’s a significant portion of my salary.”

In Seattle, Marcus discovered he was paying for three different cloud storage services simultaneously — Google One, iCloud+, and Dropbox. “Each one started with a small storage allotment that filled up, so I kept upgrading. Before I knew it, I was paying almost $30 monthly just to store photos and documents.”

The true insidiousness of subscription fatigue lies in how companies have mastered the art of retention. Cancellation processes are deliberately complex — what UX designers call “dark patterns.” Users must navigate multiple screens, endure guilt-inducing messages, and sometimes even call customer service to cancel.

Niti, a college student in Delhi, tried canceling her Nykaa Beauty Box subscription. “They made me click through four different screens asking if I was ‘really sure’ and offering discounts to stay. When I finally canceled, they kept charging me anyway, claiming there was a ‘processing delay.’”

In Chicago, Terrence wanted to cancel his Planet Fitness membership. “I had to physically go to the gym, during specific hours, and fill out a cancellation form. When I finally did, they said there was a 60-day notice period. I paid for two more months of a service I didn’t want.”

The recent surge in subscriptions is especially challenging in the current economic climate. Inflation in India remains above 5%, while in the US, housing costs have risen over 15% in many markets. Yet subscription prices continue to climb.

Netflix’s basic plan in India jumped from ₹499 to ₹649 within two years. Amazon Prime went from ₹999 to ₹1,499 and now ₹1,999 annually. In the US, Netflix has increased prices seven times since 2014, with the standard plan rising from $8.99 to $15.49.

“Companies count on consumers not noticing incremental increases,” explains Anjali, a financial advisor in Bangalore. “A ₹50 monthly increase seems small, but multiply that across multiple subscriptions and years, and the impact is substantial.”

Beyond the financial strain, subscription models have created a new form of digital anxiety. In Mumbai, Karan describes the constant notifications as “subscription terrorism.” “Every few days, another app is reminding me about renewals, offering upgrades, or warning that my storage is nearly full. It’s psychological warfare.”

The subscription model has also fundamentally altered the relationship between consumers and the products they use. In Kolkata, Ananya discovered this when her favorite photo editing app switched to a subscription model. “I had mastered this software over three years. Then suddenly, they moved all the advanced features behind a monthly paywall. I either had to start paying indefinitely or lose access to tools I relied on. I felt betrayed.”

In Boston, Samantha experienced similar frustration with her smart home devices. “My Ring doorbell suddenly required a subscription to access recorded footage. The hardware I bought outright now has diminished functionality unless I pay monthly. It feels like extortion.”

The model has even invaded deeply personal spaces. In Pune, Ajay was shocked when his meditation cushion came with a QR code linking to a paid app. “They’re selling me physical objects that are designed to be incomplete without a digital subscription. Even mindfulness has been monetized.”

Privacy concerns add another layer to subscription fatigue. Many subscription services collect vast amounts of user data to optimize their offerings and target advertising. In Delhi, technology researcher Vikas explains, “You’re not just paying with your money, but with your data. These companies track what you watch, listen to, eat, and exercise. The subscription is the visible cost; the data collection is the hidden one.”

The psychological toll of subscription management creates what economists call “cognitive overhead” — mental bandwidth consumed by tracking, evaluating, and managing multiple recurring payments. In Bengaluru, a psychiatrist observes, “I’m seeing patients whose anxiety is directly linked to subscription management. They feel trapped in a maze of commitments they can’t escape.”

The relentless cycle of free trials, promotional periods, and automatic renewals has trained consumers to approach all products with skepticism. In New York, a behavioral economist notes, “Companies have created a trust deficit. Consumers now assume any product is a trojan horse for a future subscription.”

Perhaps most concerning is how the subscription model reinforces inequality. In rural Maharashtra, teacher Lakshmi points out, “Only privileged Indians can afford digital subscriptions. My students from farming families can’t access educational and other relevant content behind paywalls. The subscription economy creates digital haves and have-nots.”

As we enter this new era of endless payments, the fundamental question emerges: How much of our financial and mental freedom are we willing to sacrifice for convenience? The subscription crisis isn’t merely about money — it’s about autonomy, attention, and the right to truly own what we buy.

For Mahesh, staring at his banking app in disbelief, the answer is becoming clear. “I don’t mind paying for value,” he says, “but this feels different. I’m not building equity or assets. I’m just… renting my entire life.”

As his chai grows cold beside his phone, the notifications continue to arrive. Another price increase. Another renewal reminder. Another free trial ending soon. The slow death by a thousand subscriptions continues, one payment at a time.