When I was a kid, I was a member of a Compact Disc club. You know; the ones that sell you 10 CDs for a penny if you sign a contract.
Selection was pretty limited but membership was a volume play. I’d get three CDs I really wanted, four I thought were okay and three I’d never heard of just to round out the list.
As part of the agreement, you had to purchase something like 10 CDs at regular price over the next year. Back then, that was in the neighborhood of $20.
Occasionally, the company would send out a catalog of $1 or $2 CDs, which, again, I would horde as many as I could because they were cheap.
To a teenager in the early 1990s, a CD collection is a status symbol. Who cares if I had the largest James Taylor selection for anyone under the age of 50 in the Central Standard Time Zone? I had a bunch of CDs, and status is everything.
Eventually, I met the required 10 CD purchase that released me from my contract, and within seconds I received another offer of 10 CDs for a penny if I would renew.
No thanks.
