All in the family, unless it’s Netflix
When Netflix announced they were going to restrict how many people could watch their service from one account, I started doing some math. I pay for the Netflix account, and since there are five squares to put people’s little avatars, we have five people hooked up to the account.
We are all related, and at one time lived under this roof. Netflix was cool with this because they gave me five little spots and never said I shouldn’t fill them. Now that the service is blowing through money and losing subscribers to various other services, they announced last year they’d be tightening up loopholes by coming around to knock on your door to see if the people on your account actually lived with you. As we all use little cartoon pictures of birds, I wish them good luck.
When I read about it, I did what I do with all things that are related to my computer: I read the headline and started texting the kids.
“Netflix is going to arrest me,” I said.
“No, they are not,” they all replied.
“Can they tell how many people are pulling the signal through the thread thing on the internet and if those threads are in different houses?” I asked.
Nobody answered this one, not even Christopher who usually has the most Mom patience. I could hear them all shaking their heads.
Things were quiet for a few months, and I decided the company was mostly just warning Americans because it was American news sites where I got my information on this. Maybe if Canadians just stayed quiet we could fly under the radar and keep ripping them off. I will go on the record, however, as saying that if you put up five little spots for people to share an account, well, let’s just say you’ve made your own bed. Also, changing the rules halfway through the game is a very lying politician thing to do.
A few weeks ago, I logged on to watch something. I’d say it was a very important documentary, but it was probably reruns of “The Office.” The precariousness of the world has me craving things that I know the outcome of in advance. My system can sustain no shocks, especially a new show where I am uncertain who will live, who will die or who will be cancelled.
I was shut out. I got a message that there was the maximum number of users already using the account. I did the only logical thing; I logged off and read a book. Of course I didn’t. I started texting the kids.
Ari was predictable. He said he never used it, it wasn’t him, and I could take him off. Pammy instantly offered to pay (no) and Christopher said he’d share Pam’s. I had no idea how many people were permitted under the new rules, and it didn’t happen again for a few weeks so I forgot about it. Christopher texted me a few days later.
“The Netflix limit is two at once, not three. WAIT you already removed me?”
I called him to explain that I was cleaning it up and removing him and Ari, like he said. I removed him first because he was on the end of the row and I wanted to test it.
“You didn’t have to delete me. You lost all my stuff,” he said. “Only two people can use it, but you don’t have to kick us out of our profiles. We’ll get off for you.”
I felt bad because if I’d ditched Ari nobody would have known. I told him to reinstate himself after apologizing more than usual. The next time I opened it up, I saw he had.
His spot is called Don’t Delete Me.