A few years back, when I lived alone in New York City, I struggled to feed myself without relying on food delivery apps like DoorDash or UberEats. Most days, I tapped my phone for takeout—sometimes even twice a day. Yet, whether it was a greasy burger or an overpriced kale salad, I often felt let down (and a bit ashamed).
I was doing well career-wise, but my food delivery habit was out of control. I’d swipe my credit card and ignore the growing bills. The idea of cooking felt like the worst chore ever. Shopping for groceries and washing dishes? No thanks.
When I had a partner, we could share the load. We’d split grocery runs and recipe ideas, which made it more fun. But alone? It was so easy to succumb to the instant gratification of those apps. With just a few taps, food appeared at my door—no effort required.
Food delivery apps are changing our eating habits, but they also affect how we think about work, money, and self-care. In the 90s, getting food delivered was simple. You’d call your favorite place, and a restaurant employee would bring it to you, cash tip included. It was straightforward and didn’t need any tech “disruption.”
In today’s world, these apps are not always the best option. Social media is full of delivery nightmares—wrong orders, late arrivals, and missing items. It’s frustrating to wait longer for your delivery than it would take to grab the food yourself. And those hidden service fees? They leave you wondering if it was worth it.
Even during my delivery days, I thought it was a scam. Now, I see how these services often hurt restaurants that already operate on thin margins. Reports reveal that some drivers, many of whom are immigrants, face poor pay and working conditions. A generous tip can hardly make up for that reality.
Despite the drawbacks, many people still use these apps because they’ve become part of our daily lives. They’re easy—too easy. I can’t judge too harshly; I used them often. But I eventually stopped, and it wasn’t an overnight change.
It took a job loss and moving to the U.K. to see how absurd it was to pay over £20 for a quick meal. Beyond the cost, I became aware of the negative impact of this convenience culture on my well-being. I didn’t want to be a “pod person,” disconnected from real interactions and spending my time glued to screens.
In a recent piece from The Cut, the idea of “friction-maxxing” was discussed, highlighting how resisting mindless convenience could be vital for our humanity. Journalist Gabe Bullard, in his upcoming book, Against Convenience: Embracing Friction in an Age of Endless Ease, argues that while delivery apps claim to simplify our lives, they may actually harm our long-term well-being.
He notes, “Our so-called conveniences do save time, money, or energy, but the savings are short-lived, while the costs linger.”
After realizing this, I forced myself to find creative ways to cook. Even with minimal effort, meals can be simple yet nourishing. For instance, rice, frozen veggies, and a fried egg can come together in under 10 minutes. I started batch cooking—prepping small amounts over the week—making meals more exciting.
Now, I don’t necessarily enjoy cooking every day, but I find joy in the process. There’s something soothing about chopping vegetables while listening to music or the satisfaction of creating with my own hands.
Interestingly, a survey by Statista found that 29% of U.S. consumers use food delivery services least once a week, highlighting just how pervasive this habit has become. This ongoing trend also brings up questions about our changing lifestyles and priorities.
So, while the allure of convenience remains strong, the journey toward more mindful eating and self-care has made a significant difference in my life. It might be challenging, but taking the time to cook for yourself can lead to greater joy and awareness in how we nourish ourselves.
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