What Happened When My Subscription Box Wasn’t What I Ordered

Two weeks ago, my latest subscription box delivery arrived — my pride and joy.

I’m a certified subscription box addict. Snack boxes, skincare kits, book-of-the-month clubs — you name it, I’ve reviewed it.

This time, it was from a new luxury lifestyle subscription that promised “exclusive, limited-edition items you can’t find anywhere else.” Perfect clickbait for my review blog and YouTube channel.

The brown cardboard box sat on my desk like a little treasure chest. The branding was sleek, matte black letters on kraft paper: LuxeCrate™. I set up my camera, ring light on full blast, because unboxing videos = views.

I hit record.

Me (smiling at the lens):

“Alright guys, today we’re unboxing my first-ever LuxeCrate! They claim everything inside is worth over $300 for just $59 a month. Let’s see if it’s hype or legit.”

The box gave that satisfying crrkk sound as I sliced the tape open. Inside, white tissue paper and a faint scent of sandalwood. Luxe points for scent. I pulled the first item — a silk scarf, gold and teal with intricate patterns. Then, a glass candle, a minimalist leather journal, and a small jewelry box.

And that’s when it got weird.

The jewelry box wasn’t part of the brand’s sneak-peek email. No logo. Just plain black.

I opened it. Inside wasn’t jewelry… but a folded note and a tiny USB drive.

I froze. This wasn’t in the product description. This wasn’t supposed to be in the box.

Me (nervously to the camera):

“Uh… okay, so this is new. I think we have… bonus content?”

I unfolded the note. In messy handwriting, it read:

“If you’re reading this, you weren’t supposed to get this. Don’t plug in the drive unless you want to know the truth.”

Chills. Literal chills.

At that point, I should’ve called customer service, but… curiosity is the whole reason I do product reviews. So I grabbed my laptop and plugged it in.

The drive had one video file: “WATCH_ME.mp4“.

The video was shaky, filmed in a dim warehouse. Stacks of LuxeCrate boxes everywhere. A man’s voice whispered:

“These boxes aren’t just subscription products. They’re tracking devices. Check the underside of your candle.”

I yanked the candle closer, flipped it over — and there it was. A tiny black square, barely bigger than a button battery, glued underneath.

I ripped it off and my phone buzzed instantly — an unknown number:

“Why did you remove the tracker?”

I slammed my laptop shut, heart pounding.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept imagining someone outside my window. I debated posting the whole video online but… something told me not to.

Two days later, I got another LuxeCrate in the mail. No subscription renewal. No charge to my card. Just the same neat black box.

Inside was only one thing:

Another note.

“We fixed your last box. Enjoy your products. Keep quiet.”

I cancelled every subscription I had that night. And for the first time in years, I uploaded a review with no products in it — just a warning:

“Not every unboxing is worth the views.”