Why I Quit Amazon Prime And Joined VisArt Video
The upside of inconvenience
My search for positivity during ominous times has grown desperate and almost comical. My latest theory: Knitting will help. Knitters seem so serene as they transform balls of yarn into works of art. When I heard about a knitting 101 class at VisArt Video in Eastway Crossing, I decided to knit something other than my brow. I, too, would become one of the serene yarn people.
I didn’t, of course. Not quite, anyway. My first finished project landed somewhere between a coaster and a potholder and formed a shape unrecognized by geometry. Yet the three hours I spent knitting in that video store lifted my spirits. Within minutes, our group—six people whose ages spanned five decades—was laughing and talking easily together. The teacher asked if I wanted to join her group text for impromptu knitting hangouts. Heck, yeah, I did.
Just as fun was the scene around me. Watching people wander through VisArt—which has the biggest collection of DVD and VHS rentals on the East Coast—reminded me how fun renting movies used to be. The aisles of Blockbuster were where slumber parties kicked off and where my opinions of potential boyfriends rose or fell with their movie suggestions. It was where I could talk one particular boyfriend into yet another viewing of Benny & Joon or Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves. (Reader, I married him.)
The endless scroll for streaming movies isn’t the same. Countless times, I’ve searched titles and watched trailers until I grew too sleepy to watch a movie at all. The video store, however—there’s a place that forces a decision and sometimes offers a surprise. Those aisles don’t care about your past selections; no algorithm guides you to watch more of the same. In VisArt, the sections for the Criterion Collection, local directors, and erotica share an aisle. Who knows where your night is headed?
I canceled Amazon Prime that week. It was the final straw for a decision I’d long considered. Jeff Bezos might not go broke because of me, but, damn it, he became $140 less rich. The move was more for me, anyway. A return to fees and shipping delays may add just enough friction to compel me to shop locally or skip an unnecessary purchase.
I wonder how much we’ve made big things worse by making small things easier. Convenience is often measured by how many people we avoid: doorstep deliveries, self-checkouts, those weird robot servers. I’m all for saving time, but I see the anxiety many people associate with strangers and small talk. Then we wonder about the epidemic of loneliness. All our favorite people were once strangers, too.
These trivial conversations and interactions are important. Researchers have found that one of the biggest predictors of well-being is a wide range of people to interact with: close friends, family, acquaintances, and strangers. (“A relational diversity in one’s social portfolio,” they call it.) That last category is a biggie. People who interact with others, even strangers, throughout the day have more positive experiences than loners. The study, from the National Academy of Sciences, found that “the amount of social interaction in an individual’s daily life is one of the most consistent predictors of psychological well-being.” That “Good morning” to a neighbor or “How’s your day?” to the Harris Teeter cashier goes a long way. Self-care can be other people.
When I left my VisArt knitting class, I accidentally forgot my needles at the store. The next morning, the gem of a teacher dropped them off in my mailbox, along with a message of, “Happy knitting!” Later that week, I got my first invitation to a group knitting hangout. Will I become an expert knitter? Perhaps. My second project was almost square! But did I meet a lovely person and join her merry band of knitters? Sure did.
I’ll still shop online and stream movies occasionally. I hope, however, that making these things a little more inconvenient may encourage me to visit local stores more often, where I might bump into a familiar face or meet a new one. Or, quite possibly, where I might talk that one guy into yet another screening of Benny & Joon.
