Who Is Pushing Us to Go Faster? A Conversation Between Fresh Food Pickers and Consumers

 

Today, fresh-food e-commerce platforms such as Hema (Alibaba), Xiaoxiang Market (Meituan), 7Fresh (JD.com) and Pupu are growing increasingly popular. These platforms mean that with just a few taps on your smartphone from the comfort of your home, you can have a wide range of daily essentials delivered within 30 minutes.

 

●‌A picker standing directly on the shelves to climb higher and save time while locating items. Photography: He Siqi

 

But what you might not realise is that behind the convenience of “30-minute delivery” lies a relentless relay between delivery riders and pickers. Last month, Foodthink published the article “The 30-Minute Delivery Myth in Fresh-Food E-Commerce Begins with the Picker’s Three Minutes”, which details the high-pressure working conditions of pickers trapped by algorithms, data, and piece-rate pay.

 

●‌Suspended inside the fresh-food e-commerce dark store (front warehouse) is a large monitor displaying site-wide metrics such as on-time rates and 30-minute delivery percentages. It feels as though every second of every worker’s shift must be justified by these figures. Image source: Yako

 

To our surprise, the comment section of this article has evolved into a rare forum for dialogue between consumers and workers.

 

The article’s detailed accounts of working conditions struck a chord with several pickers and delivery riders, who took to the comments to share their own realities: gruelling hours, piece-rate pay as low as 0.01 yuan, compromised health, and a system of management by fines. These firsthand accounts serve as a stark reminder, urging us to reflect on the world we actually inhabit.

 

Many consumers voiced empathy for the gruelling efforts of pickers and delivery riders. Some acknowledged that the convenience they enjoy is purchased with other people’s time and physical toll. Others pointed out that the platform’s three-minute deadline is not a consumer demand, but rather a byproduct of inter-platform competition, arguing that shoppers should not bear responsibility for the pickers’ plight. Still others suggested organising a collective boycott of platforms that excessively exploit their workforce.

 

Some shoppers add a “no rush” note to their orders in the hope of easing the pressure on pickers and riders. Others, however, point out that since the rules and deadlines are set by the platforms themselves, this gesture does little to tangibly improve workers’ conditions. Nevertheless, we can still take concrete steps, such as placing orders during off-peak hours and reducing our overall reliance on online delivery services.

 

While the initial focus of these conversations inevitably centred on the relationship between consumers and workers, the discussion ultimately moved beyond this binary. In this shared space, a broader range of perspectives, realities, and potential courses of action began to emerge. Below is a curated selection of comments drawn from the thread.

 

Discussion

1

Discussion One

What is the cost of convenience?

What is the price of a convenient lifestyle? On the surface, the question may seem like a heavy burden to place on shoppers. Yet it is not an indictment, but an invitation to reflect: who profits, and who pays the price? Beyond the physical toll on workers, are consumers also bearing the consequences of fresh-food e-commerce—namely, excessive plastic packaging, hygiene and food safety concerns, and the traffic accidents linked to delivery riders?

 

@觀宸奕: I used to work at Meituan’s Xiaoxiang. No social insurance, grueling work. You’re not allowed to rest on weekends or statutory holidays; if you need time off, it has to be Monday to Friday, meaning roughly four days off a month. You get scolded for missing deadlines, and realistically, you’re expected to pick two orders within three minutes. Some orders are entirely frozen goods, meaning you spend ages hunting for items in the freezers until you’re numb from the cold. You have to give 30 days’ notice to quit, with no option for immediate final pay, and you still get scheduled shifts until your last day. Workdays are basically 8 to 12 hours. No matter how long you’re on shift, the Xiaoxiang supermarket staff app only counts 11 hours a day, yet they schedule you for more than that. Hours beyond 11 don’t count towards paid time, so you just have to wait to clock out at the end of the shift. Otherwise, you’re marked absent and forced into unpaid labour, earning just a few cents in commission.

 

@A: After two years, my back and legs ache. You work 15-hour days but only get paid a base salary for 11 hours. If you don’t agree, you don’t work here. They keep cutting wages, give you no shifts when it’s quiet, and won’t let you rest when it’s busy.

●‌Freezer temperatures generally drop below minus 20 degrees Celsius, and many pickers are reluctant to go inside to collect orders. Photography by He Siqi

 

@Quella Lin: I did this as a part-timer, so here’s my experience: shifts are 7 to 8 hours, typically from 4 pm to midnight, averaging 25,000 to 30,000 steps a day (and that’s just part-time—I can’t imagine how full-timers cope with regular 10- to 11-hour shifts!). A customer complaint about produce freshness results in a 10 RMB deduction (you have to be extra careful checking items when sorting vegetables and fruits quickly, especially time-consuming ones like blueberries, strawberries, or loquats). A cracked egg, even if it wasn’t the rider’s fault, costs you 20 RMB. I caught a mild cold after just three consecutive days. You’re constantly running between the frozen, chilled, and ambient zones. The ambient area only has fans, so you sweat profusely, only to freeze solid when you dash into the low-temp and frozen sections. That’s exactly why turnover is so high in this job; they’re always recruiting.

 

@弗兰克: Sigh. Humans aren’t machines; we can’t maintain precision constantly. Real-time performance metrics measured to the second make it all too easy to make mistakes in the rush, or even forget about safety. I delivered food for a while previously, and the countdown timer on the delivery order screen really gets to you. It breeds anxiety. The worst parts are when restaurants delay orders and waiting endlessly for elevators in high-rise buildings.

 

@热情华夫饼: I often see delivery e-bikes on the road with external subwoofers blasting music at high volume. My friends and I used to speculate that this might be a way for couriers to assert their presence in urban space. But later, I heard a rider with this habit explain that the tight delivery windows force them to run red lights frequently. Playing music loudly lets drivers at intersections notice them sooner, reducing the chance of accidents.

●‌A Xiaoxiang Market delivery rider, travelling too fast with an overweight load, slid forward despite emergency braking and collided with an e-bike crossing the road, scattering delivered bottled water everywhere. Image source: Foodthink

 

@来去之间: Mainstream online supermarkets in China include Meituan’s Xiaoxiang, Alibaba’s Hema, JD’s 7Fresh, and Pupu from Fujian. All these platforms target 30-minute delivery to customers, which means the picking stage at dark stores has to be compressed into a strict window. For example, picking at a Xiaoxiang dark store is allotted three minutes, leaving roughly 25 minutes for the rider. But the dispatch system typically assigns 5 to 7 orders to a rider at once, all needing to be delivered within that 25-minute window. Once a rider finishes a delivery, whether they’re stuck in an elevator or waiting at a traffic light, if they don’t return to the dark store in time, the system immediately pushes a new order to them. That’s what causes the chaotic, reckless driving on the streets.

 

@蒹葭: Pickers on fresh-food e-commerce platforms are constantly under high pressure driven by algorithms, data targets, and piece-rate pay. Mistakes like wrong or missing items are an unavoidable structural issue, just as scrapes and traffic accidents are nearly inevitable for every courier. My uncle does this work; he’s been at it for at least a decade, surviving several tech upgrades. He always eats like a whirlwind. I barely get my chopsticks moving before he’s finished. He’s actually quite a cautious person. But last year, on a rainy day, he collided with someone while making a delivery. He fractured his thigh and is still recovering at home. Low educational attainment and a lack of a voice in public discourse have left this group, crushed by the weight of livelihood and algorithms, as a silent underclass.

 

@凛冬廿九星眠: Honestly, hygiene at most stores is pretty much the same, but plenty of people still like having the store peel their durian or cut the watermelon in half for them.

 

@Anonymous: I’ve never used a grocery delivery app. For environmental reasons, I’ve disliked them since the day they launched. I reuse plastic bags when I shop in person, but fresh-food e-commerce deliveries always arrive with a whole load of single-use plastic packaging.

●‌Shelves packed with goods wrapped in plastic bags. Photography by He Siqi

 

@信啊信Rui: If we scrap the platforms, riders and pickers lose their jobs. But if we keep them, we get exactly the situations described above. I can’t see clearly or figure out which link in the chain is actually at fault.

 

@来去之间: They’ve wiped out physical stores. Have you noticed there are fewer and fewer brick-and-mortar supermarkets?

 

@H.L: This article reminds me of the supermarket near my home. It opened over five years ago. At its peak, it had about ten staff members; now it’s just the owner and one or two others. He has to sell off everything he owns to pay their wages. The owner has been working for free since the year before last, but he’s trapped in it now. The supermarket’s costs are hidden in every aspect of the business. He invested around two million RMB, and even if he stops, he can’t sell it off. I asked whether the other woman I often saw collecting money was his wife, and he said impossible—his wife works in Shenzhen to support the family. If they both poured their energy into this, they’d never make ends meet.

 

Contrasting with the slump in local supermarket trade are the thriving online delivery platforms, alongside pickers and riders pushed to the limit by algorithmic speed demands. Every time I walk into this neighbourhood supermarket to say hello, exchange a few words, and enjoy the convenience of popping in for a quick shop, I realise it was all such a heavy, luxurious relic of the street’s past.

●‌Vibrant, community-focused wet markets and greengrocers are facing a massive blow from fresh-food e-commerce. Photography by Tianle

 

Discussion Two

A three-minute deadline: is it responding to customers’ urgency, or simply at the pickers’ expense?

Pickers are required to pick all items in an order within three minutes, passing the baton to delivery riders who continue racing against the clock. Meanwhile, customers who benefit from “30-minute express delivery” consistently say they are not in a hurry to receive their orders. Given this, why do platforms insist on driving speeds ever higher?

 

@哇塞: What exactly are we all in such a rush for? Rushing to finish middle school coursework in primary school, hitting quarterly KPIs in a single month, working overtime and surviving on one or two days off just to keep up. Who actually demanded 30-minute delivery in the first place? Would it really be so terrible if we all just slowed down a little?

 

@6: For a consumer, these ‘life-or-death’ three minutes might just be a brief moment when my mind wanders. In my experience, Xiaoxiang does deliver quickly, but honestly, if it were a bit slower—five or ten minutes—I don’t think most customers would even notice. What really matters to me is the quality and the correct quantity. I believe most people are still willing to show some mutual understanding. Treating humans like machines and machines like humans is a deeply distorted value system. A little slower won’t bring the sky down.

 

@云淡风轻: On behalf of every frontline picker at Xiaoxiang, Hema, and 7Fresh, I want to say thank you—thank you for your understanding. I’m part of this system too. If more customers were like you, our work would be a lot easier.

 

@露mio: Why do we let algorithms wear us down? Sigh, I’m being worn down too. Hearing someone speak up for us just makes my heart ache.

●‌The PDA (handheld scanner) in a picker’s hand constantly urges them to pick up the pace. Photography by Yako

 

@星星观察员: For the record: all this exploitation has absolutely nothing to do with consumers. It’s clearly the fault of platform capitalism, squeezing both customers and staff. Consumers have no obligation to understand how these platforms operate. The rules were set by the platforms themselves—why should consumers have to decide whether they’re fair?

 

@cora: Why must orders be picked within three minutes? This is just another way the platform exploits its workers. If a customer is truly in a hurry, they shouldn’t be placing an order online; they should just head downstairs and buy it themselves. Choosing to have it delivered means you’re prepared to wait.

 

@15432: It would be great if there were an option to mark orders as urgent or non-urgent. It might give everyone a bit of breathing room.

 

@来去之间: The platform isn’t going to give you that breathing room. Their systems are packed with performance metrics. Your stress is what drives their KPIs.

 

@L.: Isn’t exploiting workers exactly what capitalists do? Even if customers aren’t in a rush, squeezing delivery times to the absolute minimum maximises labour efficiency. For the same workload, you might normally need forty staff, but by pushing for speed, you only end up paying thirty. On top of that, platforms compete fiercely. When products and prices are comparable, consumers will always pick the faster option.

 

@暮夏之后: Honestly, as a customer, I’m not in a rush over those extra ten minutes. I’m buying fresh produce, not something I need to eat immediately. Once it arrives, it goes straight into the fridge until I’m ready to use it. The 30-minute delivery standard is simply a tactic platforms use to grab market share, which then gives them an excuse to relentlessly squeeze ordinary workers.

 

@瑞年: I started with Pupu, then used both Pupu and Xiaoxiang, for years now! I’ve never once filed a complaint! I usually order after 8 pm when there’s a good selection of discounted items! On rainy days, I even leave a note telling riders to take care and that there’s no rush! There’s a great comment above: If you choose to order online and sit at home, you need to be prepared to wait. You must be patient! If you’re going to complain over a delay, you really should just go buy it in person.

 

@G: Saying you’re not in a rush doesn’t help. The platform’s algorithm doesn’t care whether riders survive or not; it demands on-time delivery no matter what.

●‌A Xiaoxiang picker making deliveries within a residential compound. Image source: Foodthink

 

@海盐柠檬: Xiaoxiang Supermarket and Hema have recently started delivering near my workplace. I’ve ordered a few times and it’s undeniably convenient—I order whatever I need for dinner before I clock off, so it’s ready when I finish work. What really struck me was how fast the deliveries arrive, especially with Xiaoxiang Supermarket, where it takes just 20 minutes from placing the order. It wasn’t until I read this article that I realised what those 20 minutes actually mean and what they cost. I don’t need it that fast. I’d be perfectly fine waiting an hour, or even two.

 

Discussion

Three

Three

Behind the complaints lie workers pushed to their limits and a platform that remains hidden.

Filing a complaint when an order goes wrong is a reasonable expectation for consumers. Yet, a deeper understanding of the system allows us to move beyond a binary mindset: workers kept at breakneck speed are bound to make mistakes, so where do these errors truly originate? Complaints ultimately punish order pickers and delivery riders; can the platforms that actively ‘encourage complaints’ stop hiding and take responsibility?

 

@Lzx: Worked 5½ hours yesterday and got seven customer complaints. Absolutely unbelievable.

 

@麦子: Toward the end of 2023, I did a stint part-timing at Xiaoxiang Market. Once I had an order with 89 items; I picked them all in four minutes and nearly died of exhaustion. Another time, an order of nine items included both food and toilet cleaner. I forgot to pack the cleaner separately and got a complaint for all nine items. I was fined 90 yuan, even though a four-hour shift only pays 80 yuan. I was down in the dumps for two days. The site manager helped me appeal the next night and it worked out, so I was only fined 10 yuan. It’s genuinely terrifying. I used to joke, “I don’t fancy running outside at night, but running around at Xiaoxiang Market actually earns money.” I was too naive. After that, I never let myself think about complaints again.

 

@尤利西斯: If I find items missing when the order arrives and contact the store manager directly, does that not count as a complaint?

 

@麻麻雷: It still counts. That means the order had an issue, and the picker or delivery rider will be held responsible for it.

●‌On the receipt customers receive, the order picker’s name is printed after the order number. Photography: Yako

 

@哦喔: If a customer complains about a product for a valid reason, the picker still has to take responsibility. On top of that, pickers face pressure from two other fronts. First, the three-minute picking limit cannot be exceeded. If you consistently go over time, the site manager will reprimand you, as they need to protect the station’s fulfilment rates. Second, if you finish picking and immediately tap “packed”, the riders will have a word with you, as will the rider manager. But if you don’t tap it early enough, the manager will scold you for missing the deadline.

 

@1: Picking at Xiaoxiang is relatively manageable. A customer complaint usually results in a fine of around 10 yuan. But for delivery riders, a single complaint typically costs between 50 and 300 yuan. When average earnings are just over 3 yuan per order, it can sometimes take several days of work to cover the penalty.

●‌Delivery riders waiting for the picker to pack orders. Photography: Yako

 

@Freya: This is quite heartbreaking to read. I rely on Hema and Dingdong quite a bit, and I had no idea the convenience comes at such a brutal cost. It reminds me of a few days ago when a delivery rider knocked over my order. Some of the broth from the steamed fish head with chopped chilli spilled out. He kept apologising and offering to reimburse me. I told him it was fine and I’d just use a bowl from home. I thought that was the end of it, but the next day I noticed he’d left a message on the delivery app begging me not to leave a negative review or request a refund, warning that he would face severe performance penalties…

 

@宇宙督查员: I’ve also lodged a complaint after receiving the wrong items. Even though they were different products, the packaging looked inexplicably similar. At the time, I was quite annoyed that they could mix those up. I’ll try to be more patient and understanding about situations like this next time. Faced with the way platforms oppress and alienate people, what else can we do?

 

@范范: I’ve been ordering from Pupu and Xiaoxiang regularly for the past year, especially since there’s a Pupu store right downstairs from my place. I’ve seen their part-time job ads, and had no idea the picking stage of the job was so exhausting. Algorithms themselves aren’t designed to exploit workers, but capitalists use them to enforce a rigid form of “time management” that allows for absolutely zero “unexpected events.” Anyone who tries to manage their own schedule with that level of precision will know how unachievable that is. But the author shouldn’t feel guilty about filing complaints in the past. It’s the capitalists who have deliberately linked complaints to the wages of gig workers. I’ve filed complaints twice myself, for instance when vegetables weren’t fresh or the weight was short. Consumers’ legitimate needs have to be met as well.

 

Discussion Four

Is this true only of Xiaoxiang Supermarket?

Although the previous article focused on Xiaoxiang Supermarket, a Meituan subsidiary, this reality is by no means unique to it. With e-commerce platforms locked in fierce competition, no operator can remain immune to the pressure. Pickers caught up in this wider system are unlikely to escape exhaustion, regardless of which platform they work for.

 

@WR: This must be to compete with other platforms. Consumers might sympathise with the hardships of pickers and delivery riders, but when ordering online, they will always gravitate towards platforms offering better discounts and superior service (faster delivery with fewer mistakes). Consequently, platforms that allocate time reasonably end up losing out in this hyper-competition, while those that squeeze employee time to boost customer satisfaction win favour.

●‌On the Meituan app homepage, the entrance to Xiaoxiang Market stands out prominently, located in the second row of the first column, just beneath the food delivery option. As competition in the food delivery sector intensifies and regulations tighten, Xiaoxiang Market’s ability to tap into and satisfy online demand for fresh produce has become a new weapon for Meituan to maintain its traffic advantage in local commerce. Source: Screenshot from the Meituan app

 

@油菜花: This article really resonated with me. When job hunting didn’t go well last year, I was forced to interview for a part-time role at Pupu. Their model is pretty much the same as Xiaoxiang’s. During the interview, I felt the tension and pressure the pickers endure. They race against time, memorising product locations and address zones, all represented by codes. Once you get the hang of it, you have to pick multiple orders at once. Everyone carries several bags, many with heavy items. It’s truly a job demanding both mental and physical stamina, and it’s incredibly exhausting for women. I wondered if I could actually handle it, and in the end, I decided not to take the job.

 

@初到海拉鲁: I usually use Ele. me to buy groceries. In the past, an order of 20 to 30 items would take an hour and a half to deliver. Since last year, it’s been shortened to one hour, and this year it’s under 50 minutes. So the industry has already become like this.

 

@观花: Last week, I bought soy products, yoghurt and fruit at Chaoshifa via Taobao Flash Sale. As soon as I placed the order, I saw it calling for a rider three minutes later. I told my dad, ‘Platforms really don’t need to be this competitive!’ If I happen to be missing a piece of ginger for a dish and need it urgently, they won’t even deliver a single item, so I’d have to go down to the small greengrocer in the residential compound anyway; what I buy through them is never time-sensitive, so there’s no need to rush it all like this.

 

@We十: For Duoduo Maicai, if you buy mineral water, it arrives at the pickup station the next day. Duoduo Maicai at least uses a minivan for deliveries, even over some distance. They have a small trailer attached to the vehicle. Then, some site managers will deliver it right to your door.

 

@jam: Duoduo Maicai also needs pickers to sort items. For large items, it’s 0.68 RMB per piece.

 

@纯情女大声: I’m a Xiaoxiang Market customer, and out of curiosity, I went to apply for a part-time role there one month. During every peak period, they play upbeat songs at high volume in the warehouse to motivate the staff. I know Pupu provides pushcarts for their pickers, but the Xiaoxiang branch I visited didn’t. The pickers are often seen panting, carrying heavy items as they weave through the shelves. Their time is compressed into just those three minutes, and the PDA (handheld scanner) in each of their hands is their means of survival within this system.

●‌A picker using a trolley to collect items. Photography: Yuyang

 

@黄映红: I used to work as a part-time picker at a Walmart supermarket. You earned 0.3 RMB per item. Sometimes an order had only one or two items, but you still had to pack them properly before moving to the next order. Regardless of how many items an order contained, you had to finish it within ten minutes. If you spent ages looking for an item that wasn’t there (out of stock), you had to call the customer to confirm whether to swap the brand or specification. On average, you only made 10 to 15 RMB an hour.

 

Discussion 5

Beyond cutting back on heavy items, what else can consumers do?

While most agree that the platforms themselves should bear responsibility for these harsh working conditions, everyday consumers still want to do their part to improve the situation. Whether through individual actions or collective boycotts, we wield more power than we might assume.

 

@水瓶春天: So that’s how it works. I was wondering why Xiaoxiang Market deliveries are always so fast! But giving only three minutes is really too little. If you order a lot of items, that time is definitely not enough! It makes much more sense to add time based on the number of items. If I hadn’t read your article, we consumers would have had no idea how the system actually runs. Next time, I’ll order fewer items per order. Would it be feasible to add a note saying I’m in no rush and asking the delivery rider not to drive too fast?

 

@来去之间: That won’t work. Once an order is placed, it’s only tracked within the system. If you call the rider to say the delivery window has run out and ask them to mark it as delivered and bring it over slowly, the system monitors call logs. If the rider actually dares to mark it delivered, they get fined straight away. If they mark it delivered, you haven’t received it, and you call the rider or customer service, then the rider answers that call: a full day’s work for nothing, plus a 300 yuan fine!

 

@棘草籽: I feel guilty buying a large bottle of mineral water on Hema today. It seems to be the only thing I absolutely have to buy on these fresh-food platforms. I never order more than two bottles at a time. Previously, my only concern was that delivery riders struggle to carry them up the stairs. I’ve only just realised that bulky items are just as heavy a burden for the pickers. If I have to use the platform, are there any ways to make things slightly easier for the pickers? Should I order during off-peak hours? Order fewer items per transaction? But as long as the platforms refuse to acknowledge the workers’ plight, our little consumer tricks will always be a drop in the ocean.

 

@芽口: Peak hours run from 4:30 to 7:30 pm, so you can try placing orders outside those times. Avoid ordering too many heavy items per order, and try shopping in-store more often to reduce your reliance on fresh-food supermarkets.

●‌Because they have to sprint while carrying heavy loads, orders containing large bottles of mineral water are the ones many pickers dread most. Source: Screenshot of Xiaoxiang Market webpage

 

@偷菠萝油的女鬼: My only form of resistance is to avoid ordering on the platforms as much as possible.

 

@yyyyyyyyyyyy: Actually, shifting spending from online shopping to in-store purchases is the only way to truly boost the economy. Otherwise, once all the brick-and-mortar shops go out of business, online retailers will face no competition and prices will just keep climbing.

 

@旺财来福: I remember the day before Chinese New Year’s Eve, someone ordered from Dingdong Maicai. Most delivery riders had gone home, leaving the rest working well beyond their limits. People who had placed orders kept nagging in the Dingdong group chat, and then complained non-stop once their food finally arrived. The truth is, there’s a supermarket just ten minutes from my house. If you’re in a hurry, you can always cancel the delivery and just head to the shop. People managed fine before deliveries existed, after all. Another time, a typhoon hit and someone posted on their Moments complaining that their delivery took two hours to arrive. I’d checked the weather forecast and had already stocked up on frozen dumplings and instant noodles beforehand.

 

@殷羽sama: Consumers need to band together and boycott platforms that exploit pickers and couriers to the extreme. We should support a platform where workers can anonymously rate these companies. Any firm found abusing staff, withholding pay, or fostering a high-pressure culture should be given low scores, which would naturally lower their standing in public opinion. We can’t keep waiting until someone dies before we finally decide to boycott a brand.

 

Compiled by Yako

Edited by Yuyang

Layout by Xiaoshu