The Globe & Mail ran an article this past Monday (June 21st) called Friends for Hire. Apparently ‘friends” charge Rentafriend members $10-30/hour for their company. I checked it out at the Rentafriend site.
According to the site, I can sign up as a friend. I will be approved “usually within an hour of signing up” and then members (who pay in U.S. dollars – $24.95/month or $69.95/year) can search for a ‘friend’ by postal code. The members will then contact me and I can negotiate directly with that member as to what I charge for the pleasure of my company. I get to keep 100% of the money. The site makes the money off the members who are searching for friends.
The site maintains that this is strictly for platonic relationships and that anyone soliciting for something other than that can be reported.
But still, a one-hour approval process doesn’t provide a lot of comfort, and of course, members don’t sound like they have to pass through any screening at all, unless of course you count their credit card not making the cut.
I am torn between thinking the world is a sad and lonely place when people pay to have friends, and when we live in a culture where people ‘friend’ someone they’ve never met so they can add them to their facebook page.
Then again, I get the part about arriving in a city one day before a conference and wanting to find the little cafe that doesn’t make the big tourism lists, or the perfect shoe store that only locals know about…It’s hard to get the vibe of a place with only a guidebook and tips from the taxi guy.
Besides, I’m the one who can’t stop myself when I see people, map in hand, looking lost. I always go up to them to see if I can help.
Maybe next time I’ll still help them out, but first I’ll tell them to join Rentafriend. Then we can hang out for an hour… if they give me a twenty.
This reminds me of fifth grade when I got mad at my parents for not letting me sign up to have a pen pal. There was a list in the back of one of the kids magazines I’d snatched from the dentist’s office and I felt this ad calling to me, for a mere five dollars, i could be friends with someone far far away. Someone who would never borrow then ruin my favorite shirt. Someone who couldn’t possibly steal my boyfriend.
When my mother refused to write the check, I sent my own cash, taping coins to the letter and then riding my bike tot he post office to post it. A few months latter my first letter from my Irish pen pal arrived.
We kept in touch for several years, telling each other secrets we’d never shared, explaining how our country worked or didn’t, talking about boys and school and family, she was my confidante … until the fighting broke out in her county, and the letters stopped coming. i never found out what happened, not sure I want to. Sometimes I see her all grown up, raising children of her own, standing behind them as they click on a cyberspace friend list and hit “accept.”
Linda,
What a great story. I can see why you wouldn’t want to really find out. I like the idea of imagining her life instead…I can see her with her kids at the beach. They have orange and white kites and their new yellow beach buckets. See how the youngest (I think his name is Seamus) has such flaming hair? It’s glowing in the sun 🙂
Wow, this post takes me back. I used to pay my so-called friend Debbie a flat fee out of my allowance to come with me on my walk to the store on Saturdays. Most of the time, she even said no, proving that indeed, I couldn’t even BUY a friend.
I can see how I could use this system to pick up some karma points… but I’ll admit I just can’t take the rejection that might occur if I register and no one picks me. Red Rover, Red Rover… guess who’s NOT coming over?
Thanks for the cool post and introduction to a unique example of ‘web culture’.
It’s very apparent to me that Debbie was a rather horrible little girl and didn’t know what fun she’d was missing by not walking with you.
It really is quite amazing how our social interactions are morphing with this cyber overlay on things huh?