Liu Chunyan jumped at the opportunity four years ago when the pandemic drove up the demand for food delivery in China. The money was good, though the hours were long.
Now she is just one of more than 10 million food delivery workers in a country where the economy is contracting. She is hustling more and earning less.
Like many delivery drivers, Ms. Liu is wondering how much longer she can last in the job. The New York Times asked her to document a typical day by taking videos and recording her thoughts.
Before she became a driver, Ms. Liu, 48, spent a decade working factory jobs. In one, she glued tiny components into smartphone speakers, and in another she trimmed the edges of wooden doors.
The breadwinner of her family, she lives in a small town near Shanghai and was attracted to gig work because the pay seemed good. “I will live the life I want through my own efforts,” she writes on her social media profile.
Soon after starting as a driver, Ms. Liu scored the biggest paycheck of her life: 10,583 renminbi, about $1,500. That was almost three times what she had made in factory work. She started to believe she could one day make enough money to not only support her husband and son, but also help her parents and siblings who live in a rural village far away.
Today, however, those goals are slipping away from her.
The economics of her job have worsened considerably. Ms. Liu works for Meituan, which controls 70 percent of the market for food delivery in China. The company had two million more drivers in 2023 than in 2021, its latest data shows, and on average is paying its drivers less per order.
Drivers are under intense pressure to make deliveries, running red lights if that’s what it takes. Late orders can mean penalties and low customer ratings, which can lead to smaller paychecks.
In recent months, videos of overwhelmed drivers crying out for help have popped up on China’s internet, and the government, highly uncomfortable with public displays of discontent, has been working to regulate the industry. Under a test program, gig workers in certain cities will receive expanded social security coverage. And Meituan is trying to require mandatory breaks during long shifts.
But for now, Ms. Liu’s work life is no less arduous than ever. This is what it looks like.
8:59 a.m.
Orders delivered today: 0
Net income: -$0.41
Ms. Liu signs on to the Meituan app, which automatically takes out
9:40 a.m.
Each order comes with its own deadline. Ms. Liu said she was once fined 40 percent of her earnings on one delivery because she was a minute late.
Today is off to a good start: She is on time for all three orders in the first batch, though she arrived a mere three minutes early for the last one. Close call.
She earns about
The job can be physically taxing. This building at the start of her day has an elevator, but most don’t. Ms. Liu often has to run up stairs to make her deadline.
The streets also take a toll. She has broken at least two scooters and has had multiple traffic accidents racing to make deliveries. “It brings me to tears to talk about those experiences,” she said.
Ms. Liu comes across a group of other drivers waiting for assignments, a common scene in her town as the number of delivery workers has increased. She remembers when orders would come in nonstop. Now she feels lucky she’s not sitting and waiting.
10:15 a.m.
Orders delivered: 3
Net income: $1.18
Her next set of orders comes in. It’s five this time!
The arbiter of how much work a delivery driver gets is the Meituan algorithm. Ms. Liu has no idea how it works — but she knows she wants to stay on its good side.
She once hurt her leg while working, but didn’t take time off, not wanting to be marked as inactive. To avoid low ratings on the app, drivers comply with additional requests from customers, like picking up a pack of cigarettes and taking out their trash.
Today, for successfully delivering this second set of orders, Ms. Liu earns
1:31 p.m.
Orders delivered: 26
Net income: $13.16
After working through the lunch rush, she decides to take a break. She eats a can of porridge she brought with her. She often packs lunch to save money. She devours it in one minute.
The demands of her job mean she rarely sits down for meals with her family, even dinner. On the eve of the last Lunar New Year, when many families were gathering to celebrate, Ms. Liu’s husband, son and in-laws had to wait for her to get off work.
2:51 p.m.
Orders delivered: 31
Net income: $16.10
Uh oh. Ms. Liu notices her scooter’s battery is running low. She finishes up a few orders and heads to a nearby charging station to exchange the battery. To use the charging stations, she pays a monthly subscription that comes out to about
Only a couple of hours later, the new battery is running low! She figures out there’s a problem with the electrical connection to it, but she has orders to deliver.
With a deadline approaching, she calls the customer to apologize that she might be late. But she manages to make the delivery one minute early. Another close call.
5:31 p.m.
Knowing the battery won’t last for another batch of deliveries, Ms. Liu goes to get her bike repaired.
The mechanic replaces the connector and charges her
5:45 p.m.
Orders delivered: 42
Net income: $17.53
It’s the dinner rush, but Ms. Liu is not getting any orders. Between that and the problems with her bike, she decides to call it a day.
After nine hours of deliveries, and paying for the bike repair, she made less than $18.
Ms. Liu recently decided to cut back on the time she spends delivering food. “It’s really difficult,” she said in tears. “I am already 48. I can’t do deliveries for much longer.”
Now she is looking for other ways to make a living. She paid for an online course to learn how to produce short-form videos, which are very popular, though she knows that, too, is a hard way to make money.
“All I can do is to give it a try.” Ms. Liu said.
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