At some point this year, you probably signed up for a free trial of something with “AI” in the name and forgot to cancel it.
I’ve done that more times than I’d like to admit.
The problem is not that these tools are bad. Quite the opposite. Most of them are impressive for the first hour.
The trouble usually starts three weeks later.
So now I use a very simple test before paying for another subscription:
What did this tool actually save me from doing by hand last week?
If I can name something specific, it stays.
A report.
A translation.
A batch of images I needed to clean up.
A transcript I would otherwise have typed manually.
A repetitive task that disappeared from my day.
That is enough.
But if my answer is something like “well, it’s useful to have”, I already know where this is going.
Cancel.
It sounds almost too obvious, but it filters out a surprising number of tools.
Many AI products solve problems beautifully.
Sometimes they even solve problems I never had.
And they often ask me to change the way I work just to justify their existence.
That is usually a bad sign.
The tools that survive on my list tend to be much less glamorous.
A transcription app.
A writing assistant that catches mistakes when I’m working in a second language.
A small automation that saves me ten minutes every day.
Nothing especially exciting.
Certainly nothing I would bring up at dinner.
But useful tools have a habit of becoming invisible. They quietly earn their place by removing friction.
Two habits help me avoid subscription archaeology.
First, I pay monthly until a tool has survived at least three months of real use.
Second, I keep a simple note on my phone with one line explaining what each subscription is for.
If I cannot explain its purpose in one sentence, I probably do not need it.
AI subscriptions are starting to behave a little like kitchen drawers.
Everything seems useful when you put it in.
Then one day you open the drawer and realize you have four corkscrews.