I’ve used Google Fi for 8 years—here’s why I’ve stuck around for so long


There are plenty of choices when it comes to buying wireless service for your phone. Google Fi is one of them, and while I know it might not be the best, I’ve stuck with it for nearly a decade. Maybe I’m stubborn, but I have my reasons.

Google Fi (then called “Project Fi”) launched in 2015 with interesting ideas and a lot of promise. Originally, it used T-Mobile, Sprint, and U.S. Cellular—phones would automatically switch to whichever had the best signal—but now it’s fully T-Mobile. I was immediately interested in the service, but I didn’t sign up until 2018. I’ve been a customer ever since.

I wanted to ditch the big guys

Leaving Big Red and The Death Star behind

Illustration of a cellphone with a SIM card above the screen and the Verizon logo next to it. Credit: fantasyform / Shutterstock

Before I signed up for Google Fi in 2018, I had been with Verizon and AT&T. I was never a fan of either company, but switching seemed like a big hassle. That’s why I was interested in Google Fi. When Google rolled out the big rebranding in 2018 and opened the service up to most Android devices, I decided to give it a shot.

I’ll be honest, a big reason why I chose Google Fi was that I could do it without visiting a storefront or calling someone. It was incredibly painless to port my number and get my free SIM card in the mail. It also didn’t hurt that I was—and still am—a fan of Pixel phones. Using Google Fi seemed like the right pairing.

Pay for what I use (or don’t use)

The perfect data plan for a homebody

Person on couch with laptop. Credit: Joe Fedewa / How-To Geek

Originally, Google Fi had just one plan. It was $35 per month for unlimited calls and text, then $10 per GB of data on top. Shockingly, Google Fi still offers the Flexible plan today with the exact same pricing.

The prospect of paying only for the data I used was another big reason why I chose Google Fi. I knew that with how much data I used, my bills would likely be very small. At the time, it wasn’t uncommon for me to use less than 1GB of data per month—especially when cooped up indoors during the Winter months.

Nowadays, I leave the house more often, and Google Fi offers more than one plan. However, flexibility remains a big reason why I stay. Being able to effortlessly switch between plans has come in handy a few times. Here are a couple of examples:

In 2023, I noticed I was regularly using enough data to put my monthly bill above the price of the Unlimited Standard plan. So, I opened the app and, for the first time, left the Flexible plan and upgraded to an unlimited plan with just a couple of taps.

Last year, I went on a trip to Europe, and I realized the Unlimited Standard plan didn’t include international data. Once again, I opened the app and upgraded my plan. When the trip was over, I simply downgraded to Unlimited Essentials. It was incredibly easy.

Effortless device switching and activation

It’s literally never been a problem

I’ve mentioned a few reasons why I initially signed up for Google Fi, but one of the big reasons why I’ve stayed is the app. The Google Fi Android and iPhone app is very well designed and easy to use. This is especially apparent when I’m switching service to a new phone.

eSIM has made an easy process even easier. I simply open the Google Fi app, tap the Google account sign-in, and tell it to make my number active on this phone. Literally within minutes—sometimes less—service is up and running on the new phone. The process was exactly the same with SIM cards.

I remember how big a pain it was to activate new phones on Verizon back in the day. SIM cards made the process easier, but I’ve heard complaints from others since eSIM has become more prevalent. It doesn’t always work as seamlessly as we were promised. However, that’s a problem I’ve never had to deal with on Google Fi.

It might not be the cheapest option

But the difference isn’t much

A phone with a Google FI sim card next to it. Credit: Lucas Gouveia / How-To Geek

I write about phones for a living, so I’m well aware that there are cheaper smartphone plans out there. Money isn’t the only consideration, though, and the difference isn’t as much as you might think.

Currently, I pay $60 per month for two lines and “unlimited” (slowed after 30GB) data on Google Fi. A similar setup on Mint Mobile would cost the same. I could save $10 on Visible, but it would be two separate accounts since it doesn’t have multi-line plans. Cricket Wireless would be $5 more for two lines on its Select Unlimited plan.

That’s certainly not making Google Fi sound too pricey. However, it doesn’t tell the whole story. As mentioned, my current plan gets slowed down after 30GB of data—I never get close to that. If I were to opt for Mint’s 15GB plans instead of unlimited, I’d save $20 per month.

But again, this doesn’t tell the whole story. I would have needed to pay $40 for two weeks of international data during my Europe trip if I had been with Mint Mobile. On Google Fi, it was only $30 extra, and I got it for an entire month.

These extra perks of Google Fi are things that don’t show up on the monthly bill. Free data-only SIM cards are awesome for tablets and other secondary devices. LTE smartwatches can be added for free, and they seamlessly integrate into your existing plan. Hotspot tethering is included in every plan and never costs extra.


The “invisible” carrier

All in all, the reason why I still use Google Fi all these years later is that it requires very little effort. The aforementioned LTE smartwatch is a perfect example. When I got a Pixel Watch 4 with LTE, I barely had to do anything to activate it on my Fi plan. It was as simple as tapping a confirmation when pairing the watch to my phone. No separate plans or phone numbers to worry about.

I’m willing to pay a little more for a service that works well and stays out of the way. Maybe one day it won’t be worth it anymore, but for now, I’m still a happy customer.

google fi square logo

5G

Yes

Data cap

Unlimited




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Do you ever walk past a person on the streets exhibiting mental health issues and wonder what happened to their family? I have a brother—or at least, I used to. I worry about where he is and hope he is safe. He hasn’t taken my call since 2014.

James and his brother as young children playing together before his brother became sick. James is on the right and his brother is on the left.

James and his brother as young children playing together before his brother became sick. James is on the right and his brother is on the left.

When I was 13, I had a very bad day. I was in the back of the car, and what I remember most was the world-crushing sound violently panging off every surface: he was pounding his fists into the steering wheel, and I worried it would break apart. He was screaming at me and my mother, and I remember the web of saliva and tears hanging over his mouth. His eyes were red, and I knew this day would change everything between us. My brother was sick.

Nearly 20 years later, I still have trouble thinking about him. By the time we realized he was mentally ill, he was no longer a minor. The police brought him to a facility for the standard 72-hour hold, where he was diagnosed with paranoid delusional schizophrenia. Concluding he was not a danger to himself or others, they released him.

There was only one problem: at 18, my brother told the facility he was not related to us and that we were imposters. When they let him out, he refused to come home.

My parents sought help and even arranged for medication, but he didn’t take it. Before long, he disappeared.

My brother’s decline and disappearance had nothing to do with the common narratives about drug use or criminal behavior. He was sick. By the time my family discovered his condition, he was already 18 and legally independent from our custody.

The last time he let me visit, I asked about his bed. I remember seeing his dirty mattress on the floor beside broken glass and garbage. I also asked about the laptop my parents had gifted him just a year earlier. He needed the money, he said—and he had maxed out my parents’ credit card.

In secret from my parents, I gave him all the cash I had saved. I just wanted him to be alright.

My parents and I tried texting and calling him; there was no response except the occasional text every few weeks. But weeks turned into months.

Before long, I was graduating from high school. I begged him to come. When I looked in the bleachers, he was nowhere to be seen. I couldn’t help but wonder what I had done wrong.

The last time I heard from him was over the phone in 2014. I tried to tell him about our parents and how much we all missed him. I asked him to be my brother again, but he cut me off, saying he was never my brother. After a pause, he admitted we could be friends. Making the toughest call of my life, I told him he was my brother—and if he ever remembers that, I’ll be there, ready for him to come back.

I’m now 32 years old. I often wonder how different our lives would have been if he had been diagnosed as a minor and received appropriate care. The laws in place do not help families in my situation.

My brother has no social media, and we suspect he traded his phone several years ago. My family has hired private investigators over the years, who have also worked with local police to try to track him down.

One private investigator’s report indicated an artist befriended my brother many years ago. When my mother tried contacting the artist, they said whatever happened between them was best left in the past and declined to respond. My mom had wanted to wish my brother a happy 30th birthday.

My brother grew up in a safe, middle-class home with two parents. He had no history of drug use or criminal record. He loved collecting vintage basketball cards, eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, and listening to Motown music. To my parents, there was no smoking gun indicating he needed help before it was too late.

The next time you think about a person screaming outside on the street, picture their families. We need policies and services that allow families to locate and support their loved ones living with mental illness, and stronger protections to ensure that individuals leaving facilities can transition into stable care. Current laws, including age-based consent rules, the limits of 72-hour holds, and the lack of step-down or supported housing options, leave too many families without resources when a serious diagnosis occurs.

Governments and lawmakers need to do better for people like my brother. As someone who thinks about him every day, I can tell you the burden is too heavy to carry alone.

James Finney-Conlon is a concerned brother and mental health advocate. He can be reached at [email protected].



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