Schemes active/complete: 20
Money made: £15.57
I’m aware I’ve let another lengthy passage of time slide between blog posts, I’ve had some pretty big events in my life occur which have had to take priority, such as a weekend piss-up in Sheffield and starting Dishonored 2 on the PS4. That said, look at the total I’m on! I’m finally into whole tens of Great British Pounds with enough money now to buy a lobster dinner, and all thanks to another scheme besides Scheme #61: Look down when you walk (besides the filthy penny I found outside the Sheffield Sainsbury’s (just Googled to ensure it was “Sainsbury’s” and not “Sainsburys” as last time I bothered researching the potential possessive apostrophe of a supermarket chain with Tesco, Qmee gave me 7p. Alas this time nothing, and I’m stuck beached on 30p with them.))
Yes for all their faults Weegy have at least had the decency to endow me the money I earned through answering the hundreds and hundreds of gormless questions from dunces cheating on their homework around the world. Technically I should have been due $20.44 as visibly evidenced in the last post, but since then I was docked to $20.32 because I probably answered that limes don’t have legs and Weegy belched “ERRONEOUS!” for no reason, and then I was informed only now on payday that Weegy take a cut and PayPal take a percentage also, so the £16.15 I was actually due has come in a little light at £15.30.
That said, I can hereby state, with the first authority mustered in this blog thus far, and carrying a confidence you can literally take to the bank, Scheme #31: Answer stranger’s questions – WORKS. With Weegy it is possible to earn enough money for a reasonably sized round at the pub from copy-pasting chunks of Wikipedia at the sound of a little bell in your spare moments of an evening. Would I recommend it? Absolutely fucking not. The amount of labour is so intensive and the quantity of time sacrificed not insignificant, plus I still flinch when I hear the ding of a bell, and I feel I got off lightly. There are some answerers who consider the Ctrl+C Ctrl+V double-tap sacrilege and actually research and write their own lengthy essays on each subject matter for 10 cents at a time, which strikes me as madness. There must be easier and quicker ways of amassing the kinds of riches found in a poor child’s piggy bank, there has to be.
Speaking of piggy banks my ReceiptHog is growing in size (Scheme #71) as not only am I bugging my friends for their receipts but also diligently nicking the untaken bundles which bloat Tesco’s self-service checkouts each time I go shopping. I’m not sure if it’s just me, and historically after prefacing a thought with that it usually is, but I find a strange, subversive, voyeuristic pleasure in reading the discarded receipts from others. Take this example from yesterday – do you think this shopper left their home and travelled through the rain just to buy this combination of items??:
In regards to new schemes I’ve had several friends concur with the many online sources I pored through that Slicethepie is a nifty little money-maker, as part of Scheme #23: Become a music reviewer. There are several sites that will pay you to write your opinions of tracks even if you know the contents of a vasectomy patient’s balls about music, which is perfect for me as I enjoy silence over the vast majority of songs and haven’t held an instrument in years save a pink ukulele two weeks ago.
It didn’t take me long to whittle through Slicethepie’s competitors for this scheme – Music Xray flatly didn’t let me make an account with them for reasons unknown and minimal research taught me that HitPredictor pays out not in cash but in CDs and DVDs like anyone wants them anymore – and soon I was signing up as surely Slicethepie’s most tone deaf applicant.
That’s what I like to see! A confident and straight-spoken opportunity. You write your first name there, your last name there, and you start making money. Lovely.
At this time of writing I’ve “critiqued” something like 40 songs, reviewing the best efforts of everyone from ‘Suave Poet’ to ‘Da Realest’. You’re required to let at least 90 seconds of what is sometimes sheer audible shite percolate into your brain before you can continue, plus your review has a minimum word count too, and the calibre of wank I was writing to fill these comment boxes was cringe-worthy. I was calling things “edgy” and “raw” and “gritty”; just sounds! Of course they’re not edgy or raw or gritty! They’re shapeless, they can’t be cooked, and they don’t stop cars skidding in icy conditions!
What none of my sources mentioned was that you can also choose to critique clothes or mobile phone accessories for the same rate as reviewing songs (about 3 cents a pop). This did save having to endure a minute and a half of edgy raw grit every time, but it’s near impossible to think of a completely independent review for each of thirty almost identical iPhone headphones.
You also have a star system out of 5 which apparently increases as you write high-standard reviews, and in turn awards you more money for each one you produce. However I’ve watched my rank increase from 1 to 4 down to 2 and then back up to 3 with complete whimsy yet have been paid pretty much the same every time, namely 3 cents besides a little less for my objective dressing down of Da Realest:
It could be I’m doing something wrong; this would make sense, for I am Matt Rose, and in which case if you’re reading this and you know your Slicethepie stuff don’t hesitate to tell me. Anyway I’m on $1.31 currently with a $10 minimum payout so I see plenty of nitpicking headphones and gritty suave poets in my future.
Two more schemes I sparked into life this evening, the foremost of which we won’t spend long on as I imagine it’ll flicker and die almost instantly. Scheme #77 is to Become a taskrabbit, a titular labourer of TaskRabbit whereabouts you perform menial tasks for dribbles of cash. You offer your services for essentially quite brainless chores such as lifting, cleaning, couriering, etc, so I was surprised to find the threat of:
“An extensive vetting process”? “In-person onboarding”?? This was conveniently omitted by those blithe eeeeeasy-money-making lists I used as reference which all agree you could breeze into the TaskRabbit community just as they equally promised RentAFriend would have doting comrades chucking money at you for a chance you’d take them bowling.
I completed my application form, stating I was ready and fully qualified to take on every task they offered (which included professionally queuing as a hark back to Scheme #154), but I’m doubtful I’ll hear anything from them as the TaskRabbit’s hutch seems to principally be in London. And by that I mean when I was asked to list my city of residence, I wasn’t given a choice of all the cities in the UK, but rather just “London” or “Greater London”. A boy in Bournemouth with no car doesn’t stand much chance of surviving their infamous vetting process, no matter how good of a queuer he’s lied to say he is. We’ll wait to see what happens – best case scenario, I have to get a 3 hour coach to Camden to help move a sofa up some stairs.
With my TaskRabbit appeal hot on its way to near-certain refusal I turned to Scheme #88: Host a meal. This is self-explanatory and somewhat reminiscent of Scheme #25: Become a tour guide (radio silence on that by the way, what’s with you guys not wanting to pay me to get you drunk near a cliff-top??), in that you are paid by the lonely, lazy, hungry, friendly or varying strange combinations of these traits to host them a nice meal for the evening. I signed up to Cookening, which has now very slyly changed to become VizEat, as well as EatWith, to invite a lucky someone to sample my cooking talents which are very much on par with my levels of musical appreciation.
It’s worth pointing out for the concerned few noticing a banal trend here – not all of my schemes will simply involve me sitting at home drinking red wine and signing up to websites. At some point I’m going to have to shave and sell the hair of a celebrity somehow (Scheme #217), to illustrate my point. Registering with sites for the unlikelihood of people paying me to take them to a party or attend a funeral (no reply from Jo since her initial enquiry by the way) isn’t the most interesting to read about, but I need to get these sorts completed early to allow them to germinate. I’ll soon be shining boots on the street and renting out truffle-snuffling pigs for livelier and more interesting posts, that’s not just a promise but a straight-up inevitability.
On both VizEat & EatWith I had to delineate the culinary voyage I was prepared to take guests on and for both sites this took the form of “a wicked steak with a fine scotch”, as steak is the only food I can and will cook. I’d say my chances are finer with VizEat as they didn’t necessitate I include a high-res photo of a meal I have prepared before. EatWith did, however, and so I leave you with my only dietary construction ever immortalised on camera, the bacon-wrapped Big Mac deep fried in Pepsi batter. Wouldn’t you care to sample the menu of the gourmet who can bring this into existence?: