Cutting the Cord

I'm always looking for ways to save a buck (or preferably two). I shop at thrift stores and dollar stores, use coupons, borrow (instead of buying) books, CDs, and DVDs from the library, scour sales and clearance racks, buy only in-season produce or frozen fruit and vegetables, and regularly adjust my cellphone plan to reflect current usage. 

I'm known for my frugality. My phone is over three years old, my car is ten years old (and paid for), and my TVs are even older (no flat screens for me). I use and wear things until they break or fall apart, sometimes both. 

Why? you ask. I do all of this not by necessity but by choice. My theory is that if I live below my means, saving more than I spend, I'll always have more than I need. (And in this crazy, unpredictable world, I never know when I'll need that extra cash.) It's the best way I know to prevent credit-card debt, which I experienced as a struggling, underemployed college student (and have no interest in ever re-experiencing). 

One monthly expense that I've never tinkered with during the past six years - until now - is my DISH Network service. Despite my thrifty nature, I've always accepted that increasingly-costly bill as a necessary expense, like electricity, heat, and rent. After all, I don't frequent movie theaters often (I think I saw one new film - Maleficent with my nephew - last year), I live in small-town western New York (which means that I'm often literally snowed in for days at a time every winter), and I don't have home Internet (except on my ancient smartphone), so Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon Instant Video are off limits, and a nearly $100 monthly TV bill seemed justified. 

 

I started reconsidering, however, after the start of this new year, a typical time of reevaluation, especially when I noticed that my bill had increased by five dollars per month. That was the impetus I needed to realize that I really don't need 200 channels when I mainly watch less than a dozen. So after considering a switch for several weeks, using my free customer-appreciation pay-per-view certificate (Boyhood, which I absolutely loved), waiting for a few shows to end, and stockpiling films, I bid adieu to TCM (they don't make movies like they used to) and many other old favorites, and trimmed my programming package down to 55 channels at the end of last week, saving myself $40 per month (extra travel funds!).

So far, the expected withdrawals symptoms haven't hit, due to my careful planning. My guess is they probably won't be nearly as severe as I'd feared. In fact, now I'm wondering why I waited so long to start (figuratively) cutting the cord. For one thing, I have enough programs (currently 50) on my DVR to keep me entertained for some time. For another, I'm resourceful. I'll watch what I have, and I'll frequent my local library when I run out of recorded films. And I steadfastly believe that I won't need 55-200 TV channels when this dreadful winter finally ends, because I'll be able to actually leave my apartment.

 

This might be just a baby step in the process of fully breaking up with satellite TV. I'm researching home antennas, DVR options (I go to bed at 9 pm, so I'm fully dependent on my current one), and Internet plans, and  I've concluded, based on that data, that I'll have to spend money on something, whether on cable, satellite, or Internet, either in one-time or monthly fees, if I want more than five TV channels. 

Maybe I should quit TV altogether and live like a pioneer woman (though I'd like to keep my electricity and modern appliances, please and thank you). Hmm...sounds like a great idea for a new blog! Stay tuned.

Social-Media Stupidity

Let me start by saying that I'm glad I didn't have social media when I was a teenager. (Facebook, Twitter,  blogs, and even MySpace didn't exist, believe it or not. And I didn't have my first cellphone, a walkie-talkie-like device until I was 18.) I mean, I'd like to think that I would have handled it maturely and responsibly, but I'm sure I was better off without it. Unfortunately, it seems to me that many people of all ages have been guilty of egregious misuse of social media. Or, as I've so bluntly phrased it, social-media stupidity.

As one fine example, recent news headlines (A Texas Teenager Got Fired For a Tweet...) have trumpeted the unfortunate (for a number of reasons) story of a teenage girl in Texas who obviously tweeted before thinking when she complained, with a liberal use of explicit language, via her Twitter account, about the new job at a pizza joint that she (thought she) would be starting the next day. Her boss, who was alerted to her tweet, wittily responded, also via Twitter, that she wouldn't have to bother with the bleeping job because she'd been relieved of her duties.

I could only shake my head upon reading it. I'm genuinely concerned about the younger members of my generation, and the one rising up behind them. They're growing up with the Internet, cellphones, instant-messaging, Facebook, Twitter, and blogs as part of their everyday lives. Unlike me, they don't remember a time before these forms of communication existed. These things aren't dangerous in themselves. The danger comes when these tools are misused, as they frequently are, and unfiltered thoughts and images are posted without consideration of consequences.

But adults are also guilty of posting uncensored information on social-media, and they're also facing potentially-harsh consequences. Yesterday I read the news story of a Marquette University tenured professor, John McAdams, who could be fired for blogging about a  professor-student classroom dispute that college officials clearly did not want publicized. According to this Slate article, Firing A Professor Over a Blog Post, the professor, when discussing the situation online, outed his colleague by name and apparent political leanings, leaving no ambiguity as to her identity, and libeling her in the process. But despite the damage to his colleague's reputation, and the likely loss of his job, McAdams stands by his post:

 "As a blogger, McAdams wrote, he has the right not to keep the whole thing quiet. And he said that principles of free speech and academic freedom should allow him to speak out as he did."

McAdams proves the point that I'd like to make. I'm all for freedom of speech (My Freedom-of-Speech Defense) and personal expression (I wouldn't blog if I wasn't), but there are always potential consequences for using it. 

Here's the thing to remember: When you post (or tweet, etc.) information online, it's available to more than just your friends and family. (How many people have been fired, or at least harshly disciplined, for posting something they believed would only be seen by friends and family? More than one.) It's likely to be read by someone outside your inner circle, perhaps your current boss or future boss of your dream job, who could, respectively, fire you or not hire you based on your drunken ramblings and/or inappropriate sharing of information and photos. You never know who might be lurking (until your post, photo, or chat-board use puts you in hot water).

Think very carefully before posting any work-related information, especially if it reflects negatively on your employer and your position, as well as any potentially-harmful personal data, as it may say more about you than you'd intended. Err on the side of caution. Or, in my case, on the side of paranoia.

Some thoughts belong only in your personal journal. Some belong in a text to your BFF. Some belong in your therapist's office. And some, like your laundry schedule, belong only in your own head.To paraphrase the serenity prayer, we all need the wisdom to know the difference.