Snap A Pic

So, what we have here is a little camera.

It looks cute and retro-ish. It’s preloaded with 35mm film. It’s reusable. It’s a fun throwback item to give as a gift or keep for yourself. Break it out at parties or whenever you want to take some pictures and share them via IRL means.

After all, the internet sucks these days, and there’s no bummer quite like posting some pictures of your latest hike and then finding them on the timeline between an incomprehensible meme your elderly coworker shared and a post with 70 comments, most of which are an argument about “history.”

What we’re saying is: this thing is cool and the perfect antidote to our too-online present.

But what’s maybe the most interesting about this thing is how perfectly it exemplifies our bizarre spending priorities.

Let me take a quick tangent through my own personal finances to explain.

There was once a podcast I loved. Then, it stopped after one host got a new job outside the parent company and the other was laid off. Eventually, they restarted the podcast with a different name and a different model: subscription only. For $5 a month, the price of one watered-down happy hour well drink, you got two hour-and-a-half podcasts each week. Not a bad deal, IMO. Entertainment while cooking, doing dishes, jogging, running errands, driving, all for 60 bucks per year.

Yet, the people? Many of them voiced their displeasure in response to the podcast’s return announcement. “Guess I won’t be listening to this anymore if it’s going to cost money,” they said. “Bummer. I’ll miss you guys,” they said.

And while I rolled (and continue to roll) my eyes at these people, the truth is, other podcasts I enjoy have offered up Patreon subscriptions for the same price, and I’ve gritted my teeth and decided, while I’d love to support, I already have this other one to support.

Meanwhile, there’s a Taco Tuesday special at a nearby Mexican place where you get two tacos and a side (plus chips and salsa) for $8. And there have been months-long stretches when I’ve ordered that special every Tuesday–despite the occasional lapses in quality, despite that I could make tasty tacos myself for a quarter of that cost.

Yet, somehow, this feels completely different. My brain registers that this costs less than ordering out would usually cost, therefore it is a “good deal.”

Something similar is happening with this camera. Walmart offered it for $25. That’s really not that much money. Might you buy it, use it once, and then stash it away? Sure. But the same could be said about many things you spend money on. Like, you probably have a streaming service subscription that you keep paying despite the fact that you watch one movie there every two months. Is that a better investment than this camera?

But luckily, we have this thing for only $9, which makes buying it a no-brainer.

Right?

Well, it should, at least.

Was this a long, drawn-out exercise to say, “It’s a cute camera for cheap, so buy it”?

Yes. Yes, it was.

Anyway, it’s a cute camera for cheap, so buy it.