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The Deliveroo rider knows my name. This is not good. And I don’t mean he’s read it on the dispatch and is just being polite. I mean he plainly recognises me.
There are other riders who sometimes arrive with an order, but this one particular guy is especially frequent. He has definitely started to greet me like a long-lost friend. Well, apart from the long-lost bit — it’s probably only been a couple of days — and the friend part too, now I think of it.
It may be that I’m scrupulous about giving a tip, especially on these horrid winter nights. But who am I kidding? It’s mainly down to the fact that he is one of my most regular visitors. There are relatives who come round less often (and none brings entrées from Côte).
On further reflection, the real giveaway is the fact that the service has become a noun in our house. A bloody noun: don’t worry we’ll get a Deliveroo. Uber as a noun, I understand. But Deliveroo as a noun without any of the informative descriptors you put in front of takeaway, for example, Chinese, is a clear warning sign. What kind of meal are you having tonight? Something someone brings . . . it’s a Deliveroo. No, I can’t tell you exactly what the food is, but we’ve nailed the logistics.
To be clear, I love the service, and it is not as if I wasn’t going to eat anyway. For too many of us, Deliveroo, Uber Eats or DoorDash in the US is becoming too much of a habit. I am fortunate enough to have the means to fund my Deliveroo habit but there are others out there who will soon need a second job just to afford that poke bowl.
There will always be the odd occasion when there is a good reason for getting your food delivered. And with the price of eating out rocketing, the temptation to save by getting a nice meal delivered is understandable, even if you could also pay for something tasty from M&S and save even more.
Aside from the innate sloth implicit in regular usage, all those meals slathered in oil and cream sauces and delivered to your door are essentially a reverse Ozempic. They help you put on more weight with absolutely no effort.
Most of us got in the habit during the pandemic, when delivery meals offered a small treat or touch of normality, as well as a way of supporting local businesses. But as the lockdown lifted, some of us remained in delivery prison. Pain points include Friday night. The fridge is empty and you won’t be replenishing your groceries till tomorrow. Why not degrade yourself with a cheeky Nando’s? Or maybe you are working from home and would only have spent the money buying lunch. Still you better add a cake otherwise you are paying a lot for a Pret sandwich.
And they know how to keep you hooked; the subscription that gives you free delivery and the promise of priority services that ensure other people’s food goes cold before yours.
But aside from the health and weight-gain issues — and the expense — there is the ethical question. It’s less the fact that you can’t be bothered to drive to the takeaway than the fact that you can’t be bothered to walk into your kitchen.
Deliveroo is the food equivalent of doomscrolling, a function of boredom and laziness. You could get up off your backside and cook something, but that would require effort, choices, possibly even planning. How much easier to scroll through the options and wait for the doorbell?
And the high wears off so fast. For power-users, it’s not even a treat any more. Go to a restaurant and you are set for an hour or two. Get a Deliveroo (see, a noun) and you can all be back to your separate rooms within 30 minutes. If you live with others, cooking is sociable. The kitchen is a gathering point. And even if you are on your own, cooking is active rather than passive.
So to return to the question. If you are asking, you already know the answer. Convenience was the drug of the last few years, maybe a little more effort can be the next big addiction.
Enjoy the odd treat, but, yes, maybe try a little harder in the kitchen. Or pick up something to cook on the way home. Not a ready meal, although at least that’s cheaper, but something that will take at least 10 or 15 minutes to prepare. It’s healthier too. Your bank account will feel heavier, but in every way, you might just feel lighter.
Now you’ll have to excuse me, that’s the doorbell.
Email Robert at [email protected]
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