Fresh Food E-commerce Sorters Racing the Algorithm

Yu Yang: So does this test also imply that sorting is a highly stressful role?

He Siqi: I imagine that was definitely a factor. Their initial worry about me was simply that I might not stick it out, because the job boils down to one thing: it’s exhausting.

Tian Le: How many sorters like you do you have working there?

He Siqi: There are about twenty of us in the work WeChat group, but turnover among sorters is high. Take my first trial day: an older colleague asked me, “Are you new?” I said yes, and he just kept smiling at me. Within two days, he was gone.

Part Two: 30,000 Steps a Day

He Siqi: I didn’t track my WeChat step count during that period, but my colleagues all mentioned they were hitting 30,000 steps a day. Running is pretty much our default state for two-thirds of the time. The remaining third isn’t peak hours, so we can sit down and rest. But as soon as peak time hits, we have to get moving. Let me give you an example. One day, our supervisor posted in the group chat to say that pickers at other branches had already knocked over elderly shoppers. He told everyone to be careful while picking and not to bump into customers. The layout at 7Fresh supermarkets has the retail floor at the front and the warehouse at the back. We often have to head out to the front area to pick stock, so we end up having to hurry through the crowds when it’s busy. What annoyed us most was the 8 p.m. discount rush. Loads of elderly folks would turn up waiting for the marked-down goods, and we’d get completely cut off from getting through.

Tianle: What size are the supermarket and the warehouse? How do you decide whether to pick items from the front area or the rear warehouse? Does any equipment tell you?

He Siqi: The supermarket is roughly 200 square metres. It’s not a huge space, but you’re constantly on the move. The front area is split into fruit and vegetable and meat sections, so you’re always shifting between them. The orders we find most frustrating are the ones that mix front and back items. We pickers have a few tools, but the main one is the PDA, which is that handheld device that looks a bit like a mobile phone. We use it to receive all customer order details; it shows whether each item is in the front area or the back warehouse.

Yu Yang: Constantly pacing back and forth is incredibly exhausting. I used to work in courier delivery, where the spaces are often even tighter. Even if you’re not running, just walking back and forth repeatedly takes a real toll on your feet. How did you feel after your first day? Did you just drop straight into bed as soon as you got home?

He Siqi: The first day actually felt somewhat fresh and new. A seasoned worker was showing me the ropes on his own device, so I didn’t have to worry about breaching time limits just yet. I even felt a small sense of achievement, as though I’d just mastered a brand-new job. But on the flip side, my feet were agony, and I was genuinely exhausted by the time I got home.

Yu Yang: So the “30-minute delivery” promise made by fresh grocery platforms like Little Elephant and Dingdong is actually the result of a handoff between sorters and delivery riders. Once a customer places an order, how much time do you actually get to pick the items?

He Siqi: Under normal circumstances, it’s nine minutes per order. It doesn’t matter how many items are in it—whether it’s just a single bird chilli, two cases of bottled water, or four or five watermelons, the allowance is always nine minutes. But that nine minutes isn’t fixed. When the system pushes an order, it starts with a nine-minute countdown. If no one claims it straight away, the timer keeps ticking down. By the time I take it on, there might only be five minutes left, and I have to work with whatever time remains.

He Siqi: Sorting staff fall into two categories: part-time and full-time. Part-timers are paid per order at 1.85 yuan. Whether that bag contains one item or twenty, the payout remains exactly 1.85 yuan. Full-timers, however, are paid per item. If an order contains just one item, I only earn 0.3 yuan. The system funnels large orders to part-timers, because regardless of item count, the fee stays at 1.85 yuan. Conversely, it assigns small orders to us full-timers. Sometimes, I spend an entire afternoon handling nothing but single-item orders. At first, it struck me as a blatant trick. When I later checked with the supervisor, they confirmed the system deliberately routes orders this way.

Tian Le: The PDA locks employees into a rigid schedule, making it easier for fresh food platforms to push workers towards higher efficiency. Staff in conventional supermarkets do not face the same relentless time pressure as sorters.

Yu Yang: Would you consider it fairer to calculate order fees based on weight? After all, hauling heavy loads back and forth is far more exhausting.

He Siqi: I think weight should factor in to some extent. We frequently receive orders for 5-litre mineral water bottles or entire cases of 24 Wahaha bottles. They are cumbersome for me to move, and just as awkward for delivery riders. When we get orders like that, we cannot help but mutter a curse.

Tian Le: So are you forced to accept orders like Didi drivers? Or can you browse and grab them like riders do in a dispatcher lobby?

He Siqi: We cannot grab orders; we can only accept them via the handheld scanner. Once an order comes through, there is no way to see how many items it contains beforehand. After completing it, a printer spits out a picking slip, and only then will it assign the next one. Just like in food delivery, we have top earners here too. To earn more, you need to master a few things: first, you need a strong pair of legs—meaning you have to be able to keep walking; second, you need a sharp mind to memorise which storage bin each item is in, so that when an order comes in, I can instantly visualise the route and plan the most efficient path; third, you need quick hands. As soon as you reach a bin, you must grab the item and drop it into your picking basket without hesitation. There is also packing speed. The difference between a novice and a seasoned veteran is night and day. If your hands are fast, your overall efficiency goes up, and your daily order completion rate follows suit.

Yuyang: Roughly how long did it take you to get used to the pace of the work?

Tianle: Get used to it? Is that even possible?

He Siqi: To be fair, Tianle’s spot on. I never actually adapted. I just gritted my teeth and endured it, because I had no choice. I only felt like I’d adapted after I quit.

Tianle: It’s like Sisyphus pushing the boulder. You’re bound to be exhausted by the end of the day. But if you manage a proper rest, you wake up the next morning feeling ready to tackle it all over again.

He Siqi: The crux of it is that I don’t feel too tired as long as I’m working, but the moment I stop, the exhaustion crashes over me. After coming home each evening, I’d just sit down for a bit and feel completely drained. Resting actually felt more painful than not resting at all. I started at 8 a.m. and usually clocked off at 9 p.m.—13 hours a day. I’d cycle home, arriving around 9:30. I got one day off a week, but weekends were never an option.

Tianle: That’s still a heavy workload. Thirteen hours multiplied by six days—that’s an 8-to-9, six-day week, which actually racks up an hour more than the infamous 9-to-9 grind.

He Siqi: It’s not just 13 times 6. Monday to Friday might be scheduled for 12 or 13 hours, but on Saturdays and Sundays they’d stretch it to 14 hours. Over a 12- to 14-hour shift, we’d process between 100 and 200 orders. After just 31 days there, I’d lost about three kilograms. When you’re working at that intensity, your downtime is severely limited, and you barely eat properly—usually just shoving down a few bites and calling it a day.

The truth is, orders don’t come in evenly throughout the day. We could actually finish 13 hours’ worth of sorting in just eight. But to keep the platform’s delivery capacity running smoothly, they need someone constantly stationed there, ready to jump in as soon as orders come through. Even during quiet periods, they wouldn’t let us rest. If the afternoon lull meant fewer orders, the supervisor would have us get up and reorganise the storage shelves. That used to be the job of a dedicated stock handler, but the platform cut the role and passed the responsibility on to the sorters.

Yu Yang: Among the various business models for fresh food platforms, front-end warehousemodels show real commercial potential, though it appears this comes at the cost of rigorous labour control.

He Siqi: Our supervisor has a habit of berating staff, calling you over at the drop of a hat to have a word. Once he’s had his say, my mood for the rest of the day’s work is thoroughly dampened. He mainly sits in his chair monitoring the data. If an order I’m handling is about to run over time, he’ll start shouting. Even while I’m picking orders in the customer-facing supermarket area, I can hear him bellowing: “Why is it late again? What’s wrong with this order?” That’s when the pressure really mounts. I’m already running behind, and his urgency only makes me more frantic. Being singled out for criticism is, I’d say, the most disconcerting position to be in.

We have a few colleagues who attract a disproportionate number of customer complaints, which resulted in our supervisor being pulled into a “black room” by the 7FRESH supermarket system. Management then instructed them to penalise these sorters, with one penalty requiring employees to hand-copy the packing guidelines and photograph the result to send to the supervisor. I found this incident genuinely unbelievable at the time. We were handled as casually as primary school pupils, stripped of all dignity. Yet the reality was that everyone just went ahead and copied them out. For many sorters, I suppose, as long as no money is deducted from their pay, this approach is bearable. It just left a deep impression on me personally. Ever since this happened, I’ve come to realise that in our society, within the workplace or the sphere of wage labour, capital exercises the tightest control over us. As sorters, we simply do not experience dignity during our working hours each day.

IV. Another Day Paying to Go to Work

He Siqi: At the 7FRESH supermarket where I work, sorters are under a lot of pressure, but the floor staff are equally stressed. I once met an older woman at the fish counter who was under immense strain. Why? Well, if an online order like mine requires the fish to be cleaned and prepared, she has to do it. At the same time, in-store customers are also asking her to prepare theirs. But there are only two people at the fish counter, so they’re constantly short-handed. That’s when she starts losing her temper. On one occasion, a customer ordered prawns and requested they be deveined. It was incredibly time-consuming, and I ended up going over my time limit for that order. The woman just stood there letting off a stream of abuse—the kind of verbal tirade anyone is familiar with.

Tianle: So offering seafood preparation is a great convenience for shoppers, since I can just take the cleaned fish home and straight into the pan. It’s far from a pleasant experience on your end, though. Is the deveining option actually listed on the app, or do customers just add it to their order notes?

He Siqi: Customers can leave special instructions, and if they do, we’re bound to follow them. If we don’t, they can file a complaint, which drags down the station’s performance metrics.

Tianle: How about we cut this part? Otherwise, everyone will start making unreasonable requests.

Yuyang: Do complaints carry fines?

He Siqi: Yes. If there’s a customer complaint on one of my orders, I get fined 20 to 30 yuan on the spot. The commission for that order might only be two or three yuan, or even just a few jiao. During my first few days, I used to tell my colleagues: “Another day of paying to work!” Why say that? Because I kept getting complaints.

Tianle: What other kinds of complaints come up?

He Siqi: Take the complaint that landed me with copying out the regulations by hand as punishment. How did that happen? Say an order contains six items. We have to scan the barcodes for all six on our PDA to mark the order complete. If one item goes missing, my initial approach was just to keep hunting for it, but by the time I found it, I’d already breached the time limit. Later, I learned a workaround to avoid penalties: “manual code entry”. Every item has a code displayed on the PDA. When I couldn’t locate a product, other sorters would suggest I just “enter the code manually”—meaning I could type in the numeric code directly instead of scanning it, and the order would still register as finished. But once a colleague tracked down the missing item for me, I’d easily forget while packing that the order was originally short one thing. That’s when customers were quick to complain. To avoid a complaint, I’d have to place a replacement delivery order myself via the 7FRESH app. For example, I’d order a bottle of water for myself, keep the water, and have the rider deliver the missing item to the customer.I ended up with a drink, but I was still footing the bill for the delivery fee in the end. Another day of essentially paying to work.

Yuyang: I suppose I ought to reflect on that. Having worked as a delivery rider myself, I tend to cut some slack when my own food orders run late, as I know the sort of things that can go wrong on the road. But if I order from Xiaoxiang Supermarket and find items missing upon delivery, it completely baffles me. I just can’t see how things are supposed to disappear like that.

Tianle: Human empathy is a curious thing. It’s notoriously difficult to summon without having been there yourself.

V. “Having to enter the freezer room on your period”

Tianle: From the workers’ perspective, there is certainly exploitation, but the cash income is decent. Many would argue that if someone lacks formal qualifications or skills, they can still earn over ten thousand just by trading their physical labour in this job. What do you make of that view?

He Siqi: The piece-rate pay system creates an illusion for sorters that they are rewarded directly by output. In reality, the hours we put in are excessively long.

Tianle: What kind of people do you tend to see in sorting roles? Turnover is high, yet plenty of people still take on the work.

He Siqi: Mostly young people in their thirties; by forty, you’re considered old. There was a man in his forties from Yangzhou, Jiangsu, who was noticeably a bit slower than the younger workers and less adept at handling problems. There seem to be slightly more women. We had a female colleague who appeared to have been there since the supermarket opened. The reason she’s stayed so long is that the company provides social security contributions. One trait I’ve noticed among the female sorters is that, although they aren’t particularly old, they look visibly aged—likely a direct result of this high-intensity labour.

There’s also a twenty-four-year-old female colleague who isn’t especially strong. We sometimes pair up to head to the back-of-house frozen store to pull ice packs for packing. I told her to always call me when we needed to move the ice. She did for the first few times, but on one occasion she hauled three baskets of ice packs entirely by herself, each weighing around ten kilograms. I asked her how she managed something so heavy on her own. She answered with a wry sort of pride: “When you’re working away from home, you have no choice. What else are you going to do?” Her words struck me deeply. She has a formidable character, incredibly resilient.

Tianle: When women are menstruating, this kind of work is genuinely hard to do.

He Siqui: Yes. Sometimes, female colleagues are on their period but still have to enter the freezers or cold stores, which takes a heavy physical toll on them.Our top-performing sorter works exceptionally long hours each day, which has left her menstrual cycle irregular. It was quite poignant to hear; to complete over 200 orders a day or earn that kind of monthly income, the hidden cost she pays is tremendous.

Under the Labour Law, if I were compensated for logging this many hours, I would surely earn well over 10,000. At 7FRESH, sorters and delivery riders operate in the same environment. They share a common reality: to make money, you must log extremely long hours. You have to push through every single day, constantly waiting for the algorithm to dispatch orders.

Yuyang: Right. We only see their daily take, but miss the hardship behind it. There’s no real understanding of what happens to these workers down the line—the toll on their bodies, or what their career prospects might look like.

He Siqui: There’s no career development. You’re simply treated as consumables.

Six: 7,500 Plastic Bags Used Daily

Yuyang: A sorter once mentioned that from constantly working with the plastic bags while packing, their fingers had actually developed calluses. Roughly how many plastic bags do you go through in a day?

He Siqui: Not long ago, the supervisor shared a figure in the work chat: by 3pm on 26 July, we had completed a total of 1,471 orders. I did a quick calculation myself. At that rate, by the time we log off at 11:30pm, we should hit 2,500 orders, if not more.If we assume a minimum of three plastic bags per order, a conservative estimate puts us at 7,500 bags. For frozen or chilled goods, we also have to provide matching insulated bags, plus one or two ice packs. So the daily volume of plastic bags, insulated bags, and ice packs we go through is quite substantial.

Tianle: On top of that, fruit and vegetables have to be packed separately in plastic containers, and even drinks get wrapped in an extra layer of plastic. As we often say, the real problem with plastic packaging isn’t so much the material itself, but the fact that it’s only ever used once. Could 7Fresh supermarket perhaps run a recycling programme? For instance, once the delivery arrives, the customer unpacks the items and leaves the plastic bags or insulated boxes behind. SF Express has actually started offering this kind of service.

He Siqi: JD 7Fresh currently has no plans in this regard, but they could certainly implement it if they chose to. For instance, if you place repeat online orders, you could simply hand over the plastic bags or insulated bags from your previous delivery to the rider on the next visit. They could also roll out a policy where customers earn loyalty points from the platform for returning each plastic bag.

Tianle: However, this presents a risk for businesses: consumers might not go along with it and refuse to accept second-hand bags, largely because many people are simply indifferent to environmental concerns.

VII. E-commerce disrupts wet markets: what have we lost?

Yu Yang: Siqi’s account has brought into sharp focus the impact fresh food e-commerce platforms are currently having on wet markets. The platforms’ stringent control over sorters seems to have become the very weapon undermining these markets. Tianle, what are your thoughts? You have always been deeply concerned with how people source their food and eat well.

Tianle: Lately, I’ve been pondering one thing. In the past, shopping involved interacting with people. Now, many avoid wet markets, feeling that every visit means battling wits and haggling with vendors. E-commerce and supermarkets seem much better—clearly marked prices, no fear of being ripped off. But have we ever considered the working conditions of supermarket staff? Or those in e-commerce micro-fulfilment centres? Sorters, stock checkers, and delivery riders truly resemble the physical extensions of a vast system. Their bodies merely perform tasks the digital network cannot, requiring absolutely no emotional engagement. Unlike a wet market, which is at least a living space—a place of commerce and conversation, where human interaction remains central.

Nowadays, many young people rely on food delivery for meals and doorstep shopping for groceries, leading them to believe they no longer need to interact with anyone at all. In reality, this lifestyle inevitably spills over into relationships with colleagues, family, and even friends. Engaging with people is a constant form of honing—undoubtedly bringing both positive and negative experiences. But if we avoid this friction entirely, we reduce ourselves to communicating only with machines. That prospect is deeply unsettling to me.

Yu Yang: Beyond that, we cannot be certain whether the food supplied by these platforms is actually tastier or healthier. I once bought tomatoes from Xiaoxiang Supermarket where the seeds and juice were solidified rather than liquid. The interior was essentially hollow, and it lacked any tomato flavour whatsoever. I looked it up, and it seems this may be caused by artificial ripening agents. While the platforms’ exploitation of sorters is already severe, I recently read an analysis stating that the fulfilment cost for a single fresh food delivery order, including sorter and rider fees, runs to about 10–13 yuan. Given this, their operational cost pressures remain immense. This raises the question: will they start cutting costs at the upstream supply level, compromising product quality? It is a legitimate concern.

Tianle: After your stint as a sorter, Siqi, do you still place orders for groceries on these platforms?

He Siqi: I do, but not often. Actually, I ordered the most from online platforms precisely when I was working as a sorter. I became quite fascinated by the products; for instance, seeing all those different types of bread and toast while picking orders, and having no time for breakfast in the morning, would prompt me to place an order. Once I stopped sorting, my online ordering dropped significantly. With more free time, I simply returned to shopping in person at supermarkets or wet markets.

To be honest, when I order myself, I don’t mind if a delivery is a few minutes late. But the platforms are intensely data-driven; they must guarantee on-time delivery within a strict window. To maintain their image of high efficiency, they enforce this responsibility top-down, and ultimately, that pressure lands squarely on the sorters’ daily labour.

Yu Yang: Exactly. No matter what, they must guarantee delivery within 30 minutes of ordering. Delivery riders were also long overlooked, until suddenly, out of nowhere, they captured public attention. There is relatively little documentation online about sorters’ experiences, so we hope Siqi’s sharing today will help more people understand what sorters are going through behind the scenes to keep these fresh food e-commerce platforms running.

100 People Who Feed Us

Who uses their hands, wisdom, and very lives to sustain our daily meals? What challenges and aspirations, doubts and hopes, define their lives?

Behind the rice in your bowl, the vegetables on your plate, and every meal ordered through your phone lies a vast, complex reality. To grasp the true contours of this world, Foodthink’s podcast, Food Talk, has launched a new series: “100 People Who Feed Us.” By following the vivid experiences of a hundred practitioners, the series maps the professions of food and agriculture, revealing the most authentic human stories behind what we eat.

Transcript compiled by: Li Ye

Edited by: Yu Yang