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Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

InternetJune 2, 2022

I paid a stranger online to find my soulmate

Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

Freelancer website Fiverr has a thriving ‘Astrology and Psychics’ section. For IRL, Josie Adams reviews some of its offerings.

Fiverr has been around since 2010, and over the past 12 years it’s developed alongside – and perhaps even helped usher in – the gig economy. Working from short contract to short contract, or “gig to gig”, is nothing new for many creatives. But thanks to remote working and websites like Fiverr, it’s booming across plenty of more traditional fields.

Thousands of freelancers use Fiverr to get gigs: translation and graphic design are probably what it’s best known for, but this is the internet. There’s a freelancer for everything. You can hire someone to draw furry art, create a mortgage payment schedule, or say a rosary for you. 

There’s plenty to be said about the gig economy, and the exploitatively low rates some professionals are forced to set thanks to online competition. But there’s one small section of Fiverr that has developed as the perfect side hustle: psychic services. Very few people make a full-time living off their magic powers, and many would struggle to find a deep pool of customers. The internet is changing that.

If you browse Fiverr’s Astrology and Psychics section you’ll find almost 15,000 magical services available. Many have thousands of reviews, suggesting customer demand is just as high as this supply. But can you really cast a spell via a computer? And how well can someone predict your future without ever seeing you?

This is a product review of three Fiverr psychics – I picked them based on low cost and a quick turnaround time, and it turns out they’re just as good as real-world magicmen. Interpret that however you wish.

Gig 1: Tarot reading

Tarot is a staple of the commercial magics. There’s a tarot card reader at farmers markets, fairs, and there’s probably one in your friend group. In mine, it’s me. But they’re always very tangible – you shuffle your own cards, and the reader will loom over a tiny desk to stare into your face crevices, trying to suss out if you’re deeply miserable, or a smoker, so they can offer some helpful advice. 

Online, there’s no chance the psychic can cold read you or ask leading questions. You just send some cash over the tubes and get a basic three-card draw.

My (extremely) short lived tarot reading series qualifies me as an expert judge in this matter.

Chris, a UK-based cartographer and “the hardest man in tarot”, had five-star reviews and a strong psychic lineage. “I have Indigenous Highland Gypsy heritage and the Tarot runs in my blood,” said his ad. “No medical or pregnancy questions please.”

I coughed up $13.43 total, and 18 hours later Chris provided me with a video tarot reading that went for over five minutes. It was filmed in a small, dimly lit room, and he kept saying my name. He was curious about life in New Zealand. He asked me questions I couldn’t answer. It felt inappropriately intimate, and I recommend Chris’s services to single people only.

I won’t upload the video here, both because it’s a massive file and because it feels like it was just for us. But the gist of it: I’ve been searching for growth, but instead I need to take a path that reduces stress. Toward the end of the year I will go on holiday to a snowy place that reminds him of the music video for Disintegration by The Cure. I might elope.

Serenity, a snowy Christmas, and eternal love? Five stars for Chris.

Gig 2: Draw my future husband

For less than $15, Neo, a China-based mentalist and astrologer, will draw my soulmate. Neo claims to have more than 14 years of experience in the field of soulmate envisionment, and a degree from Kyiv State Linguistics University. Their reviews are wonderful:

“More than I had hoped for,” said one. “More than I was expecting,” said another. My hopes and expectations were now through the roof. Would my future husband be Chris the tarot reader?

It only took 12 hours for Neo to read the stars and figure out who my soulmate is. In the very detailed description that accompanied my picture, Neo explained that the better the drawing looked, the less accurate it was: each subsequent refinement reduces accuracy by 5-10%, they claimed. Either it was going to look like shit, or it was not going to look like my soulmate. I appreciate the wiggle room here as much as Neo does, I’m sure.

In the description of my future husband, Neo told me he would “fear nothing”, be “socially responsible”, and have many friends. “This may make you feel neglected sometimes,” Neo warned.

The image Neo sent was of Mr Darcy, who has one friend and fears many things.

On the left, my soulmate as drawn by Neo. On the right, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy.

I am not a professional soulmate artist but I strongly suspect this drawing is a filter over a photograph. Unfortunately I can’t find this handsome young man via reverse image search – if you’re out there, please contact me so we can elope.

A quick and detailed service but, I suspect, no magic powers involved. Three stars.

Gig 3: A spell to get out of debt

Yes, I paid a stranger on the internet to get me out of debt. Yes, this internet stranger tried to upsell me so I would get into more debt to relieve my debt. Unfortunately for shilohcyrus7, I spent all my spare cash on cryptocurrency and only had enough for the $8 basic package: a single cast spell that appeals to the law of attraction, the great spirit, and the ever-abundant universe.

The debt I would like addressed: my $40,000 student loan, and the $250 I owe my sister for an Airbnb. It was a big ask, but my doubts were irrelevant: “Your faith would be nice to have, but is not required,” said Cyrus, who claimed to represent something called the “12th Council SW7” and its Ascended Masters. At 3pm Eastern Standard Time (USA), on Monday May 30, my spell was cast “with positive energy and love”. Only hours later, I received an email from the IRD: a notice of direct credit. Yes, the Ascended Masters themselves had got me a tax refund.

I received $220 within 12 hours of purchasing this spell, and cannot wait to see more abundance manifest. In their confirmation of spellcasting, the council implored me to make a public declaration. “If you declare your current need or future wish as if it has already taken place, you will no longer be mastered by lack, loss, misfortune, problems or anything else.”

I am publicly declaring here: I have no problems. I do not have a student loan. I do not have an urge to buy Bitcoins.

Paid for itself 15 times over, five stars.

Keep going!
Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

InternetMay 24, 2022

You can donate to charities without spending money – but what’s the catch?

Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

Online services like Ecosia and Tab For a Cause are helping people donate to causes they care about without spending a cent. How do they work? And what do they say about the charity landscape? For IRL, Shanti Mathias investigates.

When I was 10, my friend showed me Freerice. It’s a website full of trivia questions, and as you answered vocabulary prompts – does “doctor” mean “physician”? Does “hero” mean “saviour”? – the words would get more difficult. For every three questions you got right, you’d advance a level. We spent hours on her clunky MacBook hoping the website would confirm what our teachers had told our parents: that we had advanced vocabularies for our age.

But there was a gimmick to Freerice that as nerdy internet children made us feel that answering trivia questions was meaningful. Each correct answer donated 10 grains of rice to the World Food Programme. If you successfully determined that, say, “recourse” meant “help”, ten grains of rice would appear on the screen. The rice would pile up until you had a hundred grains, then a thousand, and, once – our eyes stiff and dry from an entire afternoon spent staring at the laptop – a whole cup. 

Years later, Freerice is still around. It’s one of the many internet-based services that promise users they can do good without spending money. Two of the other most well-established ones are Ecosia, a search engine alternative to Google which uses the advertising revenue from its searches to plant trees, and Tab for a Cause, a browser extension which adds advertising to your home page and donates the profit to various well known charities. 

While neither Ecosia or Tab for a Cause keep exact records of users in New Zealand, both companies confirmed to The Spinoff that they had several thousand users based here. Globally, more than two million people have the Ecosia app, and 200,000 users have the Tab for a Cause browser extension. “We create an environment where people can find out more information about the causes they care about and keep them top of mind,” said a spokesperson for Tab for a Cause. But is feeling connected to causes a priority for those who use digital giving services? 

For many people there’s a “ritual” to giving money away, says Michelle Berriman, chief executive of the New Zealand Fundraising Institute, an organisation that researches fundraising and advocates for New Zealand’s charity sector. Posting a cheque in the mail to a charity you support was an important tradition in New Zealand, one that has been lost since cheques were phased out last year. Berriman sees how the fundraising sector is still grappling with how to create that ritualised sense of connection through digital giving – the sterile interfaces of automatic payments, Givealittles and credit card forms don’t feel the same. 

The New Zealand Fundraising Institute’s research suggests that charities were particularly hard-hit by the loss of cheques, with half of all charities getting more than half their income that way. But Berriman is optimistic about fundraising online; she has to be. “There’s going to be some huge changes in the space which could really enhance generosity,” she says. 

What are those changes? The gaps left by cheques and cash are slowly being filled by innovation, particularly in apps and websites, says Berriman. She’s intrigued by the possibility of services like Ecosia and Freerice – which don’t require people to donate money at all – to be another way to make giving accessible.

And perhaps digital giving creates new rituals. There’s an allure to seeing grains of rice gather on a screen, or to investing the mundanity of internet searches with the promise of trees. Like me, Denzel Chung, a PhD student based in Dunedin, spent significant amounts of time playing Freerice as a child. The website seemed different to the other cheap thrills of the internet in 2010 (coolmathgames and Taste of Awesome). “Getting grains of rice seems more tangible than getting points,” he remembers. Did the website make him more aware of global hunger? “It [seemed] abstract, but in a weird sort of way – you realise how little ten grains of rice is.” To kids with no money to give, using Freerice felt like doing something.

Denzel Chung (Photo: Supplied)

But if you can give without money, what are you giving? In the case of Ecosia, Tab for a Cause, and the many organisations emulating them, you’re giving your attention – specifically, to advertisements. Your tapping and clicking pays advertisers, which then pay Ecosia and Tab for a Cause, who give the money to the projects they support, detailing their contributions through transparency reports available on their websites. Freerice is slightly different: private donors fund the World Food Programme to support the website, hoping, presumably, to raise awareness of global hunger.

Users drawn to these services are often socially conscious and internet-savvy. “I heard about [Ecosia] and thought ‘is this too good to be true?’” says Chung, who has used the search engine on and off for years. Looking for an alternative to Google that “was functional but not totally evil”, he read through the company’s transparency reports and thought the model was appealing.

The logic of money-free digital giving is different to most charitable fundraising. Charities, in all their earnestness, are trying to tug at the heartstrings that – to mix metaphors – bind people’s wallets. Most charities make money by evoking empathy, making you feel an emotional connection to something specific. This is why charities ask you to donate to a child with a name, not the amorphous terrible thing that is global poverty. Or to curing bowel cancer – an ailment that could happen to you – not to improving general health equity.

Stephen Knowles, an economist who studies international charitable giving at the University of Otago, says that emotion is a key motivator to charitable giving. Even if the amounts involved are small, he says “people get what we call a ‘warm glow’ from donating to charity”. In exchange for giving away money, people get to feel good about themselves; this is still a form of transaction. 

Though Knowles hasn’t studied digital giving models directly, he suggests that even though no money is exchanged, “browser extension”-type charities still produce that same warm glow effect, signalling both to yourself and others that you’re a good person. When individual agency is expected to be expressed through consumer choices, the existence of Ecosia and Tab for a Cause make sense: the essential digital services you use for things like opening tabs and searching the internet, become a way to signal what kind of person you are.

Tab For a Cause has raised over $1m for charity.

But since using a search engine offers less of a connection to the cause than, say, navigating a website with snazzy videos explaining an appeal, the so-called “warm glow” becomes more diffuse. I heard about Ecosia from my sister Shar, who used Ecosia for several years at the start of university, because she cared about the environment and it seemed like a good idea. But when a Safari update removed Ecosia as a preferred search engine, Shar had to make a conscious decision. “I decided I didn’t like it enough to reinstall it,” she says.   

To combat the instinct Shar felt, these organisations offer extra reasons to use their products. Ecosia, which uses an adapted version of the Bing search engine, boasts its privacy credentials; Tab for a Cause creates a beautiful homepage with a to-do list incorporated. Given that Ecosia is a company, rather than a charity (it’s a certified B-corp that uses 100% of its profit on environmental initiatives) and Tab for a Cause is run by Gladly.io (which commits 30% of revenue to charity), one could view the “doing good” aspect of these services as simply another differentiator in a competitive market. 

Regardless, these services do achieve something. Ecosia has planted nearly 150 million trees, Tab for a Cause gave $65,000 to its charity partners last financial quarter, and Freerice has provided 214 billion grains of rice to the World Food Programme. This is a drop in the bucket compared to the hundreds of billions of dollars given away each year, but it’s still tangible, if extremely removed from the context of people opening new tabs and believing that is useful. 

The purpose of services like Ecosia is to allow you to do what you were doing anyway – find movie trivia on IMDb! Open your 40th tab! – and feel slightly less guilty about the magnitude of things wrong with the world. This is one of many ways that digital money has changed social and financial interactions; experts like Knowles and Berriman are busy thinking about what the increasing unpopularity of cash will mean for the wider charitable sector.

“Is it better to do a little bit of something or not do anything?” muses Chung. His Freerice playing days are long behind him; as a researcher studying healthcare access, he now knows more about the scale of systemic change that must be hoped for and acted towards. But given that digital advertising is heavily weighted towards the profit-making of internet giants, it’s a nice idea that somewhere, the revenue from his searches is being used to plant trees. “You still get funnelled through some tech conglomerate,” he says, “but at least you take the scenic route.”