From Air-Conditioned Offices to the Open Road: A Delivery Rider's Tale
It's a stark contrast, isn't it? One day you're navigating the familiar hum of an office, and the next, you're dodging traffic on a bicycle to deliver someone's dinner. This is the reality for many who've transitioned from traditional employment to the gig economy. But what's it really like? Let's dive in.
My journey began with a physical jolt, not a metaphorical one. I was cycling, waiting for a traffic break, when a stranger punched me. The shock was real, the situation surreal. It was a wake-up call to the daily risks of my new profession.
I was on my bike, waiting in a sidestreet for traffic to clear. The punch came from behind and by the time my mouth let fly a few expletives, the culprit was leaving. Then he caught wind of my colourful language and turned back to get in my face. He was a skinhead in a bad mood. Accusing me of being in his way, he told me I was lucky he didn’t do more damage. I paused mid-reply. This was the moment I realised he was ready to go to hell tonight, and the only thing he wanted to take with him was me.
Working for delivery services like Uber Eats is anything but predictable. About 80% of my deliveries are fast food – a mix of burgers, fried chicken, and, of course, coffee. My new work environment is a world away from the routine of an office, the same walls, and the same faces, week after week. The transition from comfortable chairs and morning teas to the daily struggle to stay safe in traffic was a significant culture shock.
After being made redundant four times in six years, months passed with hundreds of unsuccessful job applications. Bills needed to be paid. The big ones were still looming, but the small costs could be covered by delivering for Uber Eats. My Xbox was gathering dust so I sold it at Cash Converters and put the money towards a half-decent mountain bike.
One of the first things you notice is the sense of freedom. Between delivering orders, there's the realization that it's just you out there. After four months, I haven’t talked to anyone at Uber Eats. I signed up on my phone, they sent me a fluoro thermal bag, and off I went. I don’t have to worry about anybody making me redundant because there is no anybody – there’s just me. If I want to spend hours in the park eating lunch, I will. Need more sleep? That’s between me and my doona. Granted, my wages are much lower, but what value can be placed on listening to Wu-Tang Clan with wind in my hair versus dreading another company restructure?
But here's where it gets controversial... The job isn't without its dangers. Bike paths are often squeezed between moving traffic and parked cars. I've collided with a car door, resulting in a face full of road. I've had my knee torn up by tram tracks and my earpod crushed by a truck. The constant vigilance takes a toll. My muscles are tense, my mind is on high alert. After a shift, my body and mind often crash.
And this is the part most people miss... It becomes clear how urban planning prioritizes cars. Society seems to focus on cars first. Shopfronts and advertisements face the road, and countless car parks take up space.
There's also a stark difference between people in cars and people I deliver to. When I hand over my orders, most are friendly. They’re dealing with hangovers or excited to get their comfort food. I once said “Pizza time!” to some young kids and they cheered. On the other hand, if there’s a form of life that’s lower than cyclists in the eyes of cars, it’s Uber Eats bikes.
Some customers I’ve delivered to have been downright apologetic. I suppose they feel guilty for getting their Maccas order delivered when they live around the corner. No judgment from me; I still get my bonus for doing nine deliveries by 2pm. Uber Eats regularly gamifies their rewards for drivers: from week to week, they offer financial bonuses for set time periods. Let’s say you wake up on Monday and the app promotes an offer to do 30 orders before Thursday. Complete this task, and you’ll get $72 extra. It’s nice but unreliable. They’re random events based on demand and location. It can be a big bonus or a big nothing. Then it simply becomes how much effort you’re willing to put in. Another factor of being independent.
Ultimately, this job isn't a long-term solution. It’s a Band-Aid on a broken leg. The jury is still out on whether it’s better than being stuck at a desk. Air-conditioning versus sizzling heat. Freedom of movement versus monitored hours. Meetings that could have been an email versus an outdoor activity that is improving my fitness but has a very real chance of causing my untimely death. The money’s not as good but I meet nice people, get to know my city and choose my own hours.
By the way, the skinhead left me alone. I kept my mouth shut because I wasn’t about to risk my life for somebody’s $5 Boost Juice.
So, what do you think? Is the freedom and flexibility of the gig economy worth the risks and uncertainties? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
