The life of an Uber Eats driver

I work as an Uber Eats driver so people don’t have to put themselves at risk. The least they could do is say thank you

Last February, I started my dream career as a financial advisor, just like my dad had been back in India. I had one client and was trying to persuade four others to sign on with me when the pandemic began.

Then everything crashed overnight. During Covid times, no one wanted to pay for a financial advisor to tell them what to do with their money. By June, every penny of my savings had been used to cover my expenses: rent, car maintenance, car insurance, personal insurance, cellphone. I started paying my bills with my credit card, and soon the debt was piling up.

I decided to put my career on hold and find a way to earn money. In July, after being unemployed for four months, I was lucky to get hired as a computer repair technician. I was able to cover some bills, but the job didn’t help with the four months’ worth of debt I had accrued. So I signed up to become a food courier with Uber Eats and SkipTheDishes. As soon as work was over, I’d get in my car and go online. I’d pick a random eight-kilometre route, and within minutes, I’d have orders. Every night, I’d work three to four hours, and I’d earn roughly $50. Eventually, with both jobs, I paid off my debt. And oddly, the delivery work made me happier than the computer repair job. Maybe it’s because I got to explore new places and restaurants and interact with people. In November, I decided to be a food courier full time.

What I do is an important service. If I don’t deliver to these people, they might all go out to get food. Some of them might be old, or have compromised immune systems. I’m a relatively healthy 29-year-old guy. If I get infected, I might have a better chance of fighting back.

It’s been okay so far. If I’m standing inside a restaurant, people usually keep the required distance, but when I’m standing outside, some drivers don’t distance or wear masks. I’m as careful as I can be. Uber offers us free PPE, but I buy my own because I want to support a friend who sells them to me cheap: $8 for 50 masks.

I’m making just enough as a food courier to pay all my bills, but I’m finding it hard to save because of the costs associated with covering such long distances. In the last four months, I’ve driven more than 15,000 kilometres. I once drove 37 kilometres to pick up food in Vaughan, just north of Canada’s Wonderland, and deliver it to Toronto. I’ve been to the dealership twice to get the car serviced, spending close to $450 in total. I spend around $50 on gas every day.

My biggest struggle during this pandemic has been the way customers treat me. I feel like people have lost their humanity, their sense of love and respect for others. No matter how hard I’m working, they don’t seem to appreciate me at all. During most deliveries, customers don’t say anything. I don’t expect a tip because these are hard times for everyone, but the least they could do is say thanks.

One day, it was pouring out, and I was delivering McDonald’s to someone in an apartment building. I was standing on the pavement outside the glass door of the lobby, because drivers aren’t allowed inside. I was wearing my mask and extending my arm as far as it would go so I could maintain proper distance and keep the food dry in the small covered space. The customer didn’t come outside. He yelled at me to leave the food, even though the ground was wet. I didn’t feel good about myself at that moment.

If the order is wrong, people get mad—they don’t understand that the couriers don’t see their order, and we certainly don’t open the packaging to review what’s inside. Once, after I delivered to a hotel, the customer called me to say one of the items was missing. The food we collect is always in a sealed package. I didn’t take anything out or eat it. I told him to call the restaurant, but he just blamed me. That’s how it always is: the restaurants make the mistake, and we face the consequences.

The restaurant pickup experience can be similarly unpleasant. When I ask if I can use the washroom while I’m waiting for food to be prepared, they usually say their facilities are closed or out of order. Some have told me that washrooms are for guests only, even though there aren’t any guests. What does that mean? Who am I? If I’m picking up your food from inside your restaurant, am I not your guest?

And yet I still believe delivering food is a sacred job; it makes me happy that I’m able to give people some relief or a moment of joy. I’m doing this to survive financially, but also because I want people to stay at home as much as possible. The doctors and nurses are working so hard. I don’t want us to make their lives more difficult. On New Year’s Eve, I delivered food to Humber River Hospital. I’ve been there a couple of times, dropping off food for front-line workers or people who were visiting family members in the hospital. That always gives me perspective. They’re doing their jobs, and I’m doing mine.

I believe delivering food is a sacred job. I’m happy to give people some relief