Who Is Making Us Speed Up? A Discussion Between Fresh Food E-Commerce Pickers and Consumers

 

Today, fresh food e-commerce platforms such as Hema, Meituan Xiaoxiang, JD Qixian, and Pupu are increasingly popular. These platforms let you have everyday essentials delivered to your door within 30 minutes with nothing more than a few taps from home.

 

●‌A picker who plants both feet on a shelf to reach higher stock and save time. Photograph: He Siqi

 

However, what you may not realise is that behind the convenience of “30-minute delivery” lies the relay sprint of delivery riders and pickers. In an article published last month by Foodthink, “The 30-Minute Delivery Myth in Fresh Food E-Commerce Begins with the Picker’s Three Minutes”, the high-pressure working conditions under which pickers are hemmed in by algorithms, data, and piece-rate pay are described in meticulous detail.

 

●‌A large monitor hangs in a fresh food e-commerce front warehouse, displaying the site’s on-time rate, 30-minute delivery rate, and other data on a big screen. Every single second of every person’s time seems to be held accountable for in these figures. Image: Yakou

 

Remarkably, the article’s comment section has become a rare space for genuine dialogue between consumers and workers.

 

Many of the labour details described in the article resonated with some pickers and delivery riders, who also left comments sharing their own situations: working hours that far exceed expectations, piece-rate pay as low as 0.01 yuan, health that has been worn to the breaking point, and a management system that relies on punishment in place of proper oversight. These firsthand accounts serve as a reminder of the kind of world we are living in.

 

Many consumers expressed empathy for the demanding work of pickers and delivery riders. Some felt they had come to recognise that the convenient life consumers enjoy comes at the cost of other people’s bodies and time; others pointed out that the platform’s three-minute limit is not a consumer time requirement but the result of competition between platforms, and that consumers themselves should not bear responsibility for pickers’ predicament; still others believed there should be a collective boycott of platforms that excessively exploit workers.

 

Some consumers note “no rush” on their orders, hoping this will ease the pressure on pickers and delivery riders. But others point out that the rules and time limits are set by the platforms, and this cannot actually improve workers’ conditions. That said, we can certainly take some concrete actions, such as ordering off-peak and reducing our reliance on online platforms.

 

The focus of these discussions initially centred on the relationship between consumers and workers, but ultimately transcended this binary. Broader, more diverse facts, perspectives, and possibilities for action have unfolded in this space for dialogue. Below is a compilation of comments drawn from the article’s comment section.

 

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sion 1

What Is the Price of Convenience?

What is the price of a convenient life? The question may sound like a demand placed on consumers, but it is not an accusation — it is an invitation: an invitation to consider who is profiting and who is bearing the cost. Beyond the harm suffered by workers, are consumers also shouldering the consequences of fresh food e-commerce’s excessive plastic packaging, hygiene and food safety issues, and the various traffic accidents caused by delivery riders?

 

@觀宸奕: I used to work at Meituan Xiaoxiang. No social security, and the work was exhausting. No rest on weekends or public holidays — if you needed time off it could only be Monday to Friday, and you basically got four days off a month. Go over the time limit and you’d get shouted at. In most cases you had to pick two orders within three minutes. Some orders were all frozen goods, and you’d be searching for items in the cold storage, freezing to death. You also had to give 30 days’ notice to leave, with no option for immediate settlement of wages, and you still had to keep working your shifts before you actually left. Working hours were basically eight to 12 a day. No matter how long you actually worked, the Xiaoxiang Supermarket employee app only counted 11 hours a day, yet the roster scheduled shifts of more than 11. Anything beyond 11 hours didn’t count as working time, and all you could do was wait to clock out, or you’d be marked absent and forced to work for free, with only a few cents in commission.

 

@A: I worked for two years. My back ached, my legs ached. I put in 15 hours a day but only got the base salary for 11. If you didn’t agree, just don’t do it. Then they kept cutting pay — when things were quiet you weren’t given shifts, and when things were busy you weren’t allowed to rest.

●‌Cold storage temperatures are generally below minus 20 degrees Celsius, and many pickers are reluctant to go in and pick items. Photograph: He Siqi

 

@Quella Lin: I’ve done part-time shifts and can share my experience: 7 to 8 hours a session, 4 pm to midnight, an average of 25,000 to 30,000 steps a day (and I was only part-time — I can’t imagine how full-timers cope with 10- to 11-hour shifts!). If a customer complained the produce wasn’t fresh, you got a 10-yuan deduction (when picking vegetables and fruit in a hurry you have to check especially carefully — blueberries, strawberries, loquats and similar take a lot of time). If an egg was broken and it wasn’t the delivery rider’s fault, you got a 20-yuan deduction. After just three consecutive shifts I caught a mild cold — running back and forth between the frozen zone, the chilled zone, and the ambient-temperature zone. The ambient zone only had fans, so you’d be drenched in sweat, then rushing into the chilled and frozen zones would freeze you to death. That’s exactly why turnover in this kind of job is so high — they’re always recruiting.

 

@弗兰克: Sigh. People aren’t machines — you can’t work with perfect precision every single moment. Real-time performance metrics tracked to the second make it far too easy to make mistakes in the rush, even to forget about safety. I did food delivery for a while. The countdown numbers on the delivery order page made it so easy to get anxious. The worst things were restaurants holding up the food and high-rise elevators that took forever.

 

@热情华夫饼: You often see delivery electric bikes on the road with external bass speakers blasting music at full volume. I used to discuss this with a friend and guess it was perhaps a way for delivery riders to assert their presence in urban space. But then I heard a rider who had this habit say himself that it was because the delivery time pressure meant he often had to run red lights, and playing the music loud let cars going the right way at intersections spot him from further away, reducing the chance of a collision.

●‌A Xiaoxiang Supermarket delivery rider, travelling too fast with an overloaded cargo, kept sliding forward even after emergency braking and collided with an electric bike crossing the road. The mineral water bottles he was delivering scattered across the ground. Image: Foodthink

 

@来去之间: The mainstream online supermarkets in China include Meituan Xiaoxiang, Hema, JD Qixian, and Pupu Supermarket in Fujian. All of these platforms target 30-minute delivery to the customer, so the picking stage at the front warehouse has to be compressed to a set time. For example, at a Xiaoxiang front warehouse, picking takes three minutes, which leaves only about 25 minutes for the delivery rider. But the dispatch system typically assigns five to seven orders to a delivery rider, all of which need to be delivered within roughly that 25-minute window. Once a delivery rider finishes an order, whether you’re stuck in an elevator or waiting at a red light, if you haven’t made it back to the front warehouse in time, the system simply assigns you more orders — which is why you see all that chaotic, reckless driving on the roads.

 

@蒹葭: Pickers on fresh food e-commerce platforms are perpetually under the high pressure created by algorithms, data, and piece-rate pay. Mis-picked items and missed items are inevitable structural problems — just as scrapes and collisions are nearly unavoidable for every courier. My uncle does this work. He’s been at it for at least a decade, through several rounds of technological change. He eats like a whirlwind. Before I’ve even touched my chopsticks, he’s finished. He’s actually quite a reserved person by nature. But one rainy day last year, while delivering a package, he collided with someone. He fractured his thigh and is still recovering at home. Low educational attainment and a lack of public voice have left this group, crushed under the weight of daily life and algorithms, reduced to a silent underclass.

 

@凛冬廿九星眠: Sanitation in most stores is basically the same everywhere, but a lot of people still like having the durian peeled and the watermelon cut in half for them in store.

 

@Anonymous: I’ve never used a grocery app. Out of environmental concerns, I’ve been opposed to them since the day they appeared. I always reuse plastic bags for my grocery runs, but fresh food e-commerce delivery just hands you a whole pile of non-recyclable plastic.

●‌Shelves full of products wrapped in plastic bags. Photograph: He Siqi

 

@信啊信Rui: If we didn’t have platforms, delivery riders and pickers would lose their jobs. But if we do have them, then all the problems described above come up. So where exactly is the problem? I can’t figure it out and can’t make sense of it either.

 

@来去之间: They’ve killed off physical stores. Haven’t you noticed that brick-and-mortar supermarkets are getting fewer and fewer?

 

@H.L: This article reminded me of the supermarket near my home. It opened more than five years ago. At its peak it had about a dozen employees; now it’s just the owner and one or two others. Employee wages have to be paid — he’d sell the pots and the iron to make it. The owner has been working for free since the year before last, but now he can’t back out. The investment in the supermarket is hidden in every corner — roughly two million yuan in total. Even if he stopped, he couldn’t sell the business. I asked whether the other woman who often handled the till was his wife, and he said that was impossible — his wife works in Shenzhen to support the family, and if they were both in this business they’d be done for.

 

In contrast to the declining business of community supermarkets, online delivery platforms are thriving, alongside pickers and delivery riders pushed to the speed limit by system algorithms. Dropping in to say hello, to chat for a few minutes, to pop in whenever I needed something — that everyday convenience of a local shop was, it turned out, a heavy and precious relic of old neighbourhood life.

●‌Wet markets and greengrocer’s shops, full of everyday life and human warmth, are facing enormous disruption from fresh food e-commerce. Photograph: Tianle

 

Discussion 2

The Three-Minute Limit: Meeting the Customer’s Urgency or at the Picker’s Expense?

Pickers are required to collect every item in an order within three minutes, pass the baton to the delivery rider, and the rider carries on racing the clock. Customers who have enjoyed the “30-minute express delivery” have all said they are not in a rush to receive their goods. Given all that, why does the platform insist on going faster and faster?

 

@哇塞: What on earth are we all rushing to do? Rushing to finish the entire middle-school curriculum in primary school, hitting a quarter’s KPI in a single month, working hours you can never finish so you do overtime on top of one day off a week and alternating six-day and five-day weeks — who even asked for 30-minute delivery? Couldn’t we all just slow down?

 

@6: As a consumer, this life-or-death three minutes is probably just the time it takes me to zone out once. From what I’ve seen, Xiaoxiang does deliver fast, but honestly, if it were a bit slower — five minutes, ten minutes — I don’t think consumers’ perception would change much. What I mainly care about is quality and getting the right quantity, and I believe most people are still willing to understand one another. Turning people into machines and machines into people is a twisted value system. A little slower, and the sky won’t fall, will it?

 

@云淡风轻: On behalf of all the pickers on the front line at Xiaoxiang, Hema, and Qixian, I want to say thank you. Thank you for understanding, because I am part of this system too. Thank you — if everyone were like you, our work would be a great deal easier.

 

@露mio: Why do people have to let algorithms squeeze them? Sigh, I’m being squeezed too. It’s suddenly so moving that someone actually spoke up for us.

●‌The PDA (handheld device) in a picker’s hand never stops urging them to quicken their pace. Photograph: Yakou

 

@星星观察员: All the exploitation has absolutely nothing to do with consumers — everyone take note. It is plainly the fault of platform capital, squeezing customers and employees from both ends. As a consumer I have no obligation to understand the platform’s operating rules. They set those rules themselves, yet they want consumers to judge whether they are reasonable?

 

@cora: Why does it have to be picked in three minutes? The platform is really squeezing its employees too hard. If a customer is in a real hurry, they shouldn’t be placing an online order in the first place — they should go downstairs and buy it themselves. If you’re happy to wait for someone to deliver it to your door, that means you can wait.

 

@15432: It would be great if there were an “urgent / not urgent” option. Maybe everyone could breathe a little easier.

 

@来去之间: The platform won’t give you that chance to catch your breath. The system is loaded with all kinds of performance reviews — your pressure is their KPI.

 

@L.: Isn’t squeezing employees exactly what capitalists do? Even if customers aren’t in a rush, pushing delivery times to the minimum means maximising headcount efficiency. The same workload that would normally require paying forty people could, through tighter time limits, be done with just thirty. And different platforms compete with each other — when products and prices are similar, consumers will go for the faster one.

 

@暮夏之后: Honestly, as a customer, I’m not in a rush for those ten-odd minutes. I’m buying fresh produce, not something to eat immediately — after it arrives I still put it in the fridge and take it out when I need it. That 30-minute delivery target was set by the platform to grab market share, and then they squeeze ordinary employees to meet it.

 

@瑞年: I’ve been using it since Pupu launched, and then it became Pupu and Xiaoxiang — several years now! I’ve never once filed a complaint. I always order after eight in the evening, and there are plenty of bargains. On rainy days I leave a note telling the delivery rider to take care — I’m in no rush! There’s a really good comment up above: If you’ve chosen to order online and sit at home waiting, then you need to wait — and be able to wait! Those people who file complaints over a delay really need to go buy it themselves in person.

 

@G: Saying you’re not in a rush doesn’t help. The platform’s algorithm doesn’t care whether the rider lives or dies — it must deliver on time, full stop.

●‌A Xiaoxiang picker making a delivery in a residential complex. Image: Foodthink

 

@海盐柠檬: Recently, Xiaoxiang Supermarket and Hema delivery have started operating near my workplace. I’ve ordered a few times and it really is convenient — I place an order for whatever I need most before I finish work, and just take it straight home when I leave. What struck me is how fast they all deliver, especially Xiaoxiang Supermarket — twenty minutes after ordering and it’s at my door. Only after reading this article did I learn what those twenty minutes really mean, what they cost. I don’t need it that fast. An hour would be fine, even two hours would be fine.

 

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Behind the Complaints: Bodies at Their Limit and an Invisible Platform

Filing a complaint when you notice something wrong with your order is a perfectly reasonable demand on the part of the consumer. That said, understanding the system a little better helps us think about this beyond a simple either/or: bodies running at full tilt are bound to make mistakes — what is the actual source of those mistakes? The ones punished for complaints are the pickers and delivery riders. Can the platforms that “encourage complaints” stop staying invisible and take responsibility for this?

 

@Lzx: I worked five and a half hours yesterday and got hit with seven complaint deductions. Truly something else.

 

@麦子: At the end of 2023 I did part-time work at Xiaoxiang Supermarket for a while. Once I had an order with 89 items and took four minutes to pick them all — nearly died from exhaustion. Another time, an order had nine items that included both food and toilet cleaner, and I forgot to pack the cleaner separately. I got complained about for all nine items, a 90-yuan deduction, when I was only earning 80 yuan for four hours of part-time work. I was miserable for two days. The next evening the station manager got my appeal through and it was reduced to a 10-yuan deduction. That was terrifying. I’d originally thought, I don’t want to go out running at night, but if I “run” at Xiaoxiang Supermarket I actually get paid — I was too naive. After that I never dared to think about the word “complaint” again.

 

@尤利西斯: If I receive my order and find an item missing, and I contact the store manager directly, would that not count as a complaint?

 

@麻麻雷: It still counts, because that means there was a problem with the order, and the picker or the delivery rider is held responsible for it.

●‌On the receipt a customer receives, the picker’s name is printed after the order number. Photograph: Yakou

 

@哦喔: If a customer files a product complaint and the reason is valid, the picker has to bear that too. On top of that, pickers face two other sources of pressure. One is that the three-minute picking window cannot be exceeded — if you go over regularly, the station manager will have words with you; you have to protect the station’s order fulfilment. The other is that if you’ve just finished picking and immediately tap “packaged,” the delivery rider will complain about you, and the rider’s station manager will too. But if you don’t tap it in advance, the station manager will say you went over time.

 

@1: Picking at Xiaoxiang is relatively a bit better — complaint deductions are around 10 yuan. Delivery riders who get a complaint face roughly 50 to 300 yuan, and the average pay per order is just over three yuan. One complaint can sometimes take days of work to earn back.

●‌A delivery rider waiting for the picker to pack up. Photograph: Yakou

 

@Freya: This made me a bit sad. I rely quite a lot on Hema and Dingdong, and I had no idea the convenience came at such a cruel cost. It reminded me of a few days ago when the delivery rider spilled the meal box — some of the sauce from the chopped chilli fish head had leaked out. He kept apologising and offering to compensate. I said it was fine, I’d just transfer it into a bowl at home. I thought that was the end of it. I didn’t expect that the next day I’d see on the delivery platform that he had left a message at the time, asking me not to leave a bad review and not to request a refund, because he would face serious performance penalties…

 

@宇宙督查员: I’ve also filed a complaint before because I received the wrong item. Even though they were different types of products, the packaging was inexplicably similar, and I was really annoyed at the time — how could they mix this up? Next time I’ll try to be a bit more patient and understanding about this kind of thing. Faced with the way platforms exert pressure on people and alienate them, what else can we do?

 

@范范: I’ve been buying from Pupu and Xiaoxiang a lot this past year, especially since there’s a Pupu right downstairs from my home. I’ve also seen the part-time recruitment notices they put up — I had no idea the picking part of the job was so exasperating. The algorithm itself isn’t designed to exploit employees, but capitalists use the algorithm to create “time management” that allows no “accident” to happen. Anyone who regularly uses time management to plan their schedule can tell just how impossible that is. But the author doesn’t need to feel guilty about past complaints — it’s the capitalists who have tied complaints to working people’s pay. I’ve also filed complaints twice myself, for example when I received produce that wasn’t fresh or was underweight. Consumers’ needs need to be met too.

 

Discussion 4

Is It Only Xiaoxiang Supermarket?

Although the previous article focused on Xiaoxiang Supermarket, a Meituan subsidiary, the scene it describes is by no means exclusive to that one platform. E-commerce platforms are locked in fierce competition with one another, and no player is immune. Pickers embedded in this vast system — no matter which platform they work for — are, I’m afraid, all hard to save from being worn to the bone.

 

@WR: This is to compete with the other platforms, isn’t it? Consumers may sympathise with how hard it is for pickers and delivery riders, but when choosing a platform for online grocery delivery, they’ll always gravitate towards the one with better deals and better service (faster delivery with fewer errors). That means platforms that allocate time reasonably lose their competitiveness in the involution, while platforms that squeeze employees’ time to boost customer satisfaction get favoured.

●‌Open the Meituan app and the Xiaoxiang Supermarket entry is very prominent on the homepage — first column, second row, right below the food delivery section. With the food delivery market growing ever more competitive and regulation tightening, Xiaoxiang Supermarket’s ability to tap into and fulfil online fresh-produce demand has become a new weapon for maintaining Meituan’s traffic advantage in local commerce. Image: Meituan app screenshot

 

@油菜花: Reading this article really hit home. Last year I was having trouble finding a job and ended up going for a part-time interview at Pupu Supermarket — their model is basically the same as Xiaoxiang’s. On the day of the interview, I could feel the tension and pressure the pickers were under. They were racing against the clock, having to memorise where products were located and also the address zones, all denoted by codes. Once you’re proficient, you have to pick multiple orders at the same time, carrying several bags, and a lot of the items are heavy. It’s genuinely a “brain plus brawn” job, and it’s really exhausting for a woman. I kept asking myself whether I could actually handle it, and in the end I didn’t go.

 

@初到海拉鲁: I usually use Ele.me for groceries. Before, I’d buy 20–30 items at a time and it took an hour and a half to arrive. Starting last year it was cut down to an hour, and this year it’s even under 50 minutes. So the industry has already gotten to this point.

 

@观花: Last week I bought soy products, yoghurt, and fruit at Super Fa on Taobao Flash Purchase. I hit send on the order, and three minutes later I could see a delivery rider being summoned. I told my dad, “The platforms don’t need to push this hard, do they?” If you’re cooking and happen to be short of a piece of ginger and need it urgently, they won’t even deliver a single piece — I’d have to go down to the little vegetable stall in the courtyard myself. What I buy from them is stuff I don’t need in a rush, so there’s no reason to scramble over like that.

 

@We十: Duoduo Maicai — I buy bottled water through them, and it gets to the pickup point the next day. At least Duoduo Maicai uses a van to deliver, even if there’s some distance. They’ve got a little trolley on the back of the van. And some station managers will deliver it right to your door.

 

@jam: Duoduo Maicai also needs pickers to sort the orders, you know. They allow six minutes and eight seconds per large item.

 

@纯情女大声: I’m a Xiaoxiang Supermarket user, and one month I went to a Xiaoxiang Supermarket to apply for a part-time job out of curiosity. Every peak hour, the warehouse blasts fast-paced songs at full volume to keep the employees going. I know Pupu gives pickers trolleys to use, but the one I went to didn’t have any. The pickers were constantly panting, cradling heavy items and darting between the shelves. Their time was compressed into those three minutes, and the PDA in each one’s hand was their lifeline within this system.

●‌A picker picking items using a hand trolley. Photograph: Yuyang

 

@黄映红: I did part-time work as a picker at Walmart. It was 30 fen per item. Sometimes an order was just one or two items, but you still had to pack it before you could move on to the next one. Regardless of how many items were in the order, you had to finish within 10 minutes. Some items you’d search for forever (the store was out of stock), and then you’d have to call the customer to confirm a substitute brand or size. It worked out to an average of only 10–15 yuan an hour.

 

Discussion 5

What Else Can Consumers Do Besides Buying Fewer Heavy Items?

Most people agree that the platforms should be held responsible for these deplorable working conditions, but as ordinary consumers, we also hope to do something to improve the situation. From individual actions to collective boycotts, we are not as powerless as we might think.

 

@水瓶春天: Ah, so that’s how it works. No wonder Xiaoxiang deliveries are always so fast! But three minutes is really too little — when I order a lot of items, there’s simply no way that’s enough time! It would only be fair to add time according to the number of items! If it weren’t for reading your article, we consumers would truly have no idea how the system runs. So next time I’ll order a bit less per order and add a note saying there’s no rush so the delivery rider doesn’t have to go full speed — would that be possible?

 

@来去之间: That won’t work. Once an order is placed, it just flows through the system. If you call the rider and say you don’t have time to receive the delivery and they can sign for it first and bring it over slowly, the system monitors call records. If the rider actually dared to sign for it, there’s an immediate fine. And if the rider signs for it but you haven’t received the goods, and you call the rider or customer service — the moment the rider picks up, that’s a day’s work for nothing. A 300-yuan fine!

 

@棘草籽: Today I still have to buy a bottle of mineral water on Hema, feeling guilty about it. This seems to be the only thing I can’t avoid buying on a fresh-grocery platform. I never buy more than two bottles at a time — my earlier concern was that the delivery rider would find it hard to carry it up the stairs. Only now am I realising that for the picker, large items are a heavy burden too. If I have to use the platform, are there any strategies that could make things a little easier for the picker? Ordering during off-peak hours, perhaps? Buying fewer items per order? But if the platforms won’t acknowledge the workers’ situation, consumers’ little tricks are just a drop in the ocean.

 

@芽口: Peak hours are 4:30–7:30 pm. You can try ordering outside those windows; don’t order too many heavy items per order; and try to shop offline more, reducing your reliance on fresh-grocery platforms.

●‌Because they have to run while carrying heavy items, many pickers dread the orders that include large bottles of mineral water. Image: Screenshot from the Xiaoxiang Supermarket page

 

@偷菠萝油的女鬼: My only form of resistance is to try not to order on the platforms at all.

 

@yyyyyyyyyyyy: Actually, it’s reducing online shopping and increasing offline spending that can make a real difference for the economy. Otherwise, all the physical stores will close, and with no competition, online e-commerce prices will just keep going up.

 

@旺财来福: I remember the day before New Year’s Eve — someone ordered from Dingdong Maicai. Most of the delivery riders had gone home, and the ones still working were running at maximum capacity. The people who had ordered kept urging the riders in the Dingdong group chat, and when the deliveries finally arrived, they kept complaining. Actually, there’s a supermarket within a ten-minute walk of my home. If you’re in a hurry, you can just cancel the delivery and go to the shop yourself. After all, people managed fine without food delivery before. There was also a typhoon once, and someone posted on WeChat Moments saying their delivery had only arrived two hours after ordering. I heard the weather forecast and bought some frozen dumplings and instant noodles in advance to keep at home.

 

@殷羽sama: Consumers should band together and boycott platforms that squeeze pickers and couriers past the point of reason. There should be a platform where employees can anonymously rate these companies — those that abuse staff, withhold wages, or maintain high-pressure cultures would get low scores, which would lower their standing in the public’s overall assessment. We shouldn’t have to wait every time until someone is killed before people start boycotting a particular brand.

 

Compiled by: Yakou

Edited by: Yuyang

Layout by: Xiaoshu