Invisible Transactions

My husband, Ryan, lost his job about a year ago, and after looking for several months, took to gig work. DoorDash, Instacart, UberEats, Spark, Shipt, and Amazon Flex.

Six days a week, he’s up at 4:00 AM, charges his EV by 5:00, and arrives at Kroger by 6:00. This is when the first orders drop, where couriers wait in the parking lot, scouring available routes like Hunger Games resources at the cornucopia.

Ryan does this all day long, bouncing from app-to-app, whether rain or 100-degree heat, for 10–12 hours. He eats on the go, taking only restroom breaks en route. Orders are first come, first served. You’ve got to be fast to accept a “good shop” before it goes to someone else.

At this point, Ryan’s got a groove, ranking in the higher tiers of those aforementioned apps. He watches other gig workers on YouTube, researching best practices. He even keeps a spreadsheet of miles driven, hours worked, and completed orders, all configured into daily rates. Depending on the day, my husband drives 100–200 miles and brings home anywhere from $50–$300. Not bad. He enjoys it enough, for now, and I truly appreciate how hard he works.

But we can’t foresee the future. Neither of us knows what kind of orders will drop (if any), where each route will take him, if it will be a pleasant (or even safe) experience, or whether he will be appropriately compensated for his time and effort.

Having done Amazon Flex and DoorDash as side hustles in the past, I understand this trepidation. No two days of gig work are ever the same. That’s why I don’t do it anymore. But I respect the folks who do.

I may be a little biased. 🙂

As we ramp up to the holiday season, here are some little-known secrets about the modern-day favor fairies who make your multitasking look like magic.

1. No Flat Rate

One would assume that these couriers get a flat-rate pay with tips, similar to waiters or hostesses. While some (like Flex) do, for most grocery and meal delivery services it varies. If there’s no routes or you can’t work that day, you get zero.

Usually, they pay a small percentage (around 10%) of the overall shop. That $40 order you placed for bread, milk, eggs, and juice at the store fifteen miles away? You do the math. Not even the number of units plays a factor, even if they’re all the same. The Aldi run for sixty gallons of milk? (Yes, an actual order.) All that produce hand-selected with care and intention? Doesn’t matter.

If an item is out of stock and requires a refund, that deducts from his take-home pay, because it lowers the overall total. (It works in their favor, too, if you add on items.) You can help your Dasher by providing substitutions, answering your phone, and chatting via the app whenever feasible.

2. Tips

In polite society, it’s customary to leave a 15–20% tip when you go out to eat. More if the server went above and beyond. The check comes, and servers play it cool. No pressure. Just a quick question on the screen.

Some folks round to the nearest dollar. Others leave a large bill and use it as an opportunity to make that server’s day. Everyone knows the drill, and I don’t think anyone minds paying it forward in that sense. Because in restaurants, wait staff are real people.

You notice their nail polish, talk about weekend plans, and share your celebrations with them. We make eye contact, apologize for a seemingly difficult order or the mess our kids made at the table, and make small talk when the restaurant isn’t slammed.

But couriers don’t get that same luxury. They’re names on a screen, phantoms on our porches, captured only through a Ring camera, if at all. They seldom get a “Hello,” much less a “Thank you.” Out of sight, out of mind.

$200 in groceries, thirty miles away, with a $5 tip? You’d be surprised how often this occurs.

3. Access

Here’s where it gets interesting.

Many apps provide a “suggested” delivery radius rather than a pinpoint location. If you live in an apartment and the buildings aren’t clearly labeled, your Dasher will be left to wander aimlessly.

Say there’s a gate or mailroom drop-off when the leasing office isn’t open. There’s no way to get your items delivered. Couriers aren’t supposed to dump items, but if it means the time spent shopping has been wasted and now the order has to be returned in-store, your lack of communication just took away their profit.

So…while I don’t condone it, I do understand.

I put delivery instructions in the profile, you say. If it’s a link to the code, we can’t open it. What about stairs? Elevators? Parking? Dogs? Specificity goes a long way.

Customer Service doesn’t provide much help with these hiccups and usually cancels the order altogether if we call (which means a trip back to the store). Newer housing developments often have spotty Wi-Fi signals, so the apps won’t work. That slows us down, affecting our stats, which impacts the future orders we’re offered.

I personally have had to climb under a fence with cows just to get to my car after dropping off an order at a house party. I’ve been chased by dogs, had two sketchy men follow me up and down a stairwell, and even got trapped once in a Dallas parking garage because I wasn’t given the code to get OUT once the order was complete.

Oh, the stories I could tell…

Also, for the love of all that is holy, when you place an early-morning delivery, leave your porch light on. That’s just common courtesy. Enough said.

4. Ratings & Reimbursements

The better your customer rating, the better your status. The better your status, the better “drops” are offered. Sometimes there are incentives, too, usually for an extra $20 or so. Rankings and ratings are determined mostly through courier performance, which is reported by…

You guessed it. You.

These workers don’t get reimbursed for their gas, mileage, or car insurance (which is required upon application). There are some third-party exceptions, but it’s nickels and dimes.

That fellow who just hauled four cases of water, two twelve-packs of Diet Coke, a gallon of milk, and three boxes of snacks fifty yards to your front porch made multiple trips. He asked a clerk to look in the back for that one specific item on your list. He stood in line. He waited in traffic. He hustled like a contestant on “Supermarket Sweep.” It’s not his fault that your favorite chips were out of stock, the price increased on one item, or they didn’t have your size.

When it comes to grace, little is much. Thanks to him, you just got your afternoon back. So, if you can’t increase your tip, take the time to leave a positive rating. And if you can, please do both.

5. Perks

Yes, there are some perks once you’ve reached a certain ranking. They usually come as discounts on streaming services or the delivery apps themselves. Because of Ryan, we got to keep Discovery+ and can watch all our documentaries!

My favorite thing, though, is the one-off orders. That house with a mini-fridge and snacks on a hot summer afternoon. Relief on an old man’s face when we insist that we carry in that bulky box. Singing “I’m a Little TeaPot” into the Ring camera (a request, and yes, I did this!). Knowing that you’ve just helped the stressed-out parent cross at least one thing off their to-do list.

Most days, Ryan comes home exhausted. We’re on completely different schedules. Our time together is precious. But every so often, he’ll walk through the door with a story about someone who made his day, or someone whose day he made a little easier.

“I got to bless them, and they blessed me.”

That’s the part of the gig economy you won’t find on a spreadsheet. And honestly, it’s the part worth remembering.

All this said, nobody is asking you to feel sorry for gig workers. You don’t need to know their life stories. Most aren’t looking for sympathy. Ryan certainly isn’t. They’re looking for a fair shot, a little consideration, and perhaps an occasional acknowledgment that they’re human beings doing a job. Doing the best they can. Just like everyone else.

Convenience might be just a tap away, but kindness is what keeps us fed long after the meals are eaten and the groceries are stored.