Unfortunately, that selfish neighbor either moved away, died, or moved the router out of my computer's range, and my dreams came crashing down to earth. I faced a tough question: could I really justify paying for internet? Finally, enticed by a 6-month introductory offer of $30 a month, I gave in and started paying for my own connection. And I loved it. Streaming videos, listening to music, viewing images, chatting on instant message, reading emails that took less than five minutes to load...it's like Al Gore waived his magic wand and instantly transported me from the AOL-hell of the early 90s to the 21st century.
When those glorious introductory six months came to an end, I didn't hesitate before deciding to continue my service, even at the full price. In six short months, I came to realize that I wasn't just paying for an internet connection--the web had become so much more. The internet was my TV, radio, newspaper, bank, weatherman, tax accountant, mall, library, phone book, and even the metaphorical binoculars that let me peer through my neighbors' windows at night. (Just kidding about that last one....or am I?)
And more importantly, I realized that with just a little effort, I could offset part of that monthly internet bill. Selling old junk on eBay is probably the most widely known source of internet income, but the web also offers a surprising number of less popular money-making opportunities. Plenty of websites offer rewards for filling out surveys, which you can cash in for gift cards or other free stuff. My two favorites are Mypoints.com and eRewards.com, which send emails with links to surveys--the longer the survey, the larger the reward you receive for completing it.
At first, you might be thinking that this sounds like a time-consuming, desperate, and pathetic way to make money. And you're probably right...but over the years, I've received hundreds of dollars worth of free stuff, enough to put a sizable dent in that internet bill. Still, most people just laugh, and even those who aren't immediately turned off by the idea usually take issue with one important aspect of these services: the privacy factor.
Understandably, people find it creepy that by filling out all these surveys, companies across the country will have all kinds of personal information about them--their nationality, where they live, how much money they make, how many kids they have, what kind of car they drive, what they watch on TV. I agree, these are all legitimate concerns. That's why I came up with a simple solution: lying.
And so, as far as the internet is concerned, I'm a 64 year-old African American woman from Woodville, Alabama, with an 8th grade education and a wooden leg. Thanks to my job as a greeter at the Woodville Wal-Mart, I'll pulling down just under $20,000 a year. And though my house may not be much to look at, it's a roof over my head for me and all 17 of my children. My car doesn't look much better than the house, but driving with a wooden leg was never easy anyway.
Yet somehow, despite my rich and colorful history, I manage to fall outside the researchers' target market. After filling out hundreds of these surveys over the years, I've come to realize that the surveys are, generally speaking, extremely predictable. Nearly every one of them asks for the same types of information: consumers' responses to advertisements or new product ideas, insights on shopping habits, or information about consumers' plans to make major purchases like houses or cars. But apparently companies are more interested in the opinions of wealthy white males between the ages of 18 and 49. Lucky for me, these websites still hand out small rewards even when I don't qualify for their surveys.
On the rare occasion that a company is actually interested in the opinion of an elderly woman with no disposable income, I have the opportunity to answer all the questions in the survey. Normally, I'd guess that the process of completing a full survey would take anywhere from 20 to 40 minutes, but that assumes that the respondent is reading the questions and putting actual thought into the answers. Instead, I earn my reward with a 30-second flurry of mindless clicking. None of the work, all of the rewards, and I get to flood the marketing departments of America's corporations with grossly inaccurate and misleading insights about their consumers. In case Ford ever re-launches the 1983 Escort with peg-leg-friendly pedals, let me just say in advance: you're welcome.
I'll admit, at first I was only in it for the free stuff. But along the way, I've stumbled across some real gems that make the whole experience worthwhile, with or without the rewards. As I mentioned before, most of the questions are boring and repetitive, asking about my favorite toaster design, my preferred hardware store, or my plans to switch car insurers. The intentions of the company behind the survey are obvious...usually. Every once and a while, I across a question that leaves me asking, "huh?" Take this one, for example:
I can't help but wonder...who are they targeting with this question, and what kind of product are they trying to sell? My favorite part is that the question doesn't bother offering a "None of the above" option. Because apparently everyone has conducted a business meeting while doing something obscene, illegal, or just downright creepy. I couldn't help but check every box and offer a few more ideas in the "other" section before proceeding.
I can't speak for everyone, but I know that all of my best business meetings took place while I was intoxicated, wearing only my underwear, and beating my children while visiting a close friend in prison. I get choked up with pride knowing that I'm providing companies with valuable insights like these. And best of all, I'm getting paid to do it. With entertainment like this, I can confidently say that I will never be able to live without my internet connection.
