我做独立外卖骑手已经五年了(也就是所谓的“灵活就业者”),我在你能想到的所有第三方外卖平台上都干过。我是以独立承包人的身份干工作的,所以我在各个平台上的收入当然也是不一样的。不过在扣除油费和其他成本后,我能赚到多少钱回家,则在很大程度上取决于我拿到的小费。这种小费有时可以高达20美元,有时则一分没有。
本文并非是要让读者感到内疚,好让大家给外卖小哥更多的小费(尽管那样也不错)。相反,我是想揭露一些外卖客户大都没有意识到的事实——你在点外卖前慷慨的点击了“小费”,以为这样一来,外卖小哥会感激涕零快马加鞭地给你送餐。但现实情况下,如果你是在DoorDash等国外热门外卖平台上订外卖,那么你的小费有很大概率是被平台用来补贴其他服务了,你和外卖小哥都没要得到你们想要的,得利的只有平台一家而已。
现在大多数人已经习惯了吃外卖的生活,而且大多数人会自然而然地以为,如果我们给外卖骑手一笔小费,这笔钱会直接到达他的账号,你给的小费越多,等待时间就越短。然而事实未必如此。实际上,DoorDash在配送完成之前通常会对骑手隐瞒全额小费。也就是说骑手在把餐交到你手上之前,是不知道你慷慨地给了他那么多小费的。
假设你在外卖软件上点了餐,并且支付了3美元的配送费(这笔钱大部分会归骑手所有),然后考虑到餐馆离你家有8英里的路程,因此你好心支付了10美元的小费。那么在骑手端的APP上,他们应该是可以看到你支付的全部金额的。但通常情况下,APP会把一部分金额私藏起来,骑手只能拿到其中的一部分——比如4美元或者8美元,而不是原本的13美元。
如果骑手接了这笔订单,他们直到订单完成后才会发现这笔订单的总收入是13美元。听起来似乎骑手会有一种意外之喜的感觉,但是从长远来看,作为一个汇聚了众多骑手的第三方平台,这种套路并非一个很好的模式,因为骑手们需要准确的信息才能对是否接单做出决定。
但站在平台的角度看,很多情况下,顾客给的小费是很低的,甚至压根不给小费。这样的话,骑手们可能压根不会去接那一单,所以高小费的设定对平台是有利的。
问题是,高小费并不一定总会有,这就是平台为什么要玩“隐藏小费”的把戏。在美国,外卖小哥的基本收入是很低的,一般来说,短途的订单只能拿到2.5美元,或者3.5美元,稍远一点的订单也只能拿到3.25到3.5美元。有的时候DoorDash甚至会把几个订单打包到一起,里面夹杂着一两个没有小费的订单,好让它对骑手显得有吸引力一些。如果骑手接单了,平台可能还会扣掉50美分,最终的配送费用平均下来就是每单2美元左右。很多时候骑手如果觉得亏了,只能点击“取消派单”,而对平台违反自身条款的行为无可奈何。
DoorDash等外卖平台则表示,这种系统对顾客和骑手都更公平,而且就算骑手没有得到小费,它会向骑手提供基本工资。
话虽如此,但大型平台在这个问题上显然占据了信息优势,这是典型的“庄家通吃”。
这些外卖软件对骑手打出的广告是“给自己打工”、“当自己的老板”,很多骑手也正是因为这个目的才加入了送外卖的行列。但是平台操作数据的做法,却让这个APP变成了一台赌博机器。我们在接单时会不会想,我得接多少个4美元的单,才会从中间抽中一个20美元小费的订单?
这样一来,无论你是订餐的食客,还是送餐的骑手,你都不知道这一单的金额究竟与账面价值一致,还是在“抽奖”。当然你也可以给现金小费,但是骑手们还是得等餐送到了才能拿到小费,所以这依然没有意义。在非官方沟通渠道中(主要是通过社交媒体),骑手们对此事的见解不一。有的支持多接单,从而增加拿到高额小费的说明一下。还有的则认为应该对平台的这种做法说“不”,坚持可靠的中等报价。
针对这些问题,像Para APP这种骑手专用工具已经出现了,它们可以提高骑手的收入透明度,从而更好地管理他们的工作,这些工具在知情的骑手中非常受欢迎。当然,DoorDash等外卖平台正在想方设法地阻止骑手们了解相关信息,他们不想让我们知道我们能拿到多少报酬。但如果我真的是“自己的老板”,我就应该可以自由使用任何我觉得有用的工具,我就应该明确每项工作的条款,拥有我自己的数据,并且尽可能地把我宝贵的时间卖出一个高价钱。
然而在现实中,外卖配送产业仍在走过时的承包经济的老路,这种模式是在“过去车马都慢”的时代发展起来的,那时很多工作都有明确的权责界限。但是作为外卖骑手,我们的工作与网页设计师、水管工或园林设计师等其他自由职业者有着很大区别,平台派单的时候我们往往正在骑车,只有30秒左右的时间来考虑接单还是不接。外卖配送产业的规模化,和接派单的高速度,给平台留下了充分的混水摸鱼的空间。他们可能上一秒钟还是甩手掌柜,下一秒钟就变成了一个独裁的老板。除了隐藏关键信息之外,一些平台还存在强制暂停业务、难以删除的不公平和歧视性差评等问题,有时甚至武断地不向一些骑手派单,而且缺乏可靠的审查和恢复机制。
很明显,这些大型科技公司认为,打零工的骑手只不过是算法经济这部大机器上的一个螺丝钉,招募他们的意义就是为公司产生利润。这对他们来说是天经地义的事,而我们的经济也的确就是这样运转的。但从另一个角度看,目前美国已有6000万灵活就业人群。外卖骑手们必须团结起来,通过DriverRights.org这样的组织(这是一个由外卖骑手和灵活就业者组成的联盟),要求各大平台提供充分的透明度,为灵活就业者的权益、为法律法规的执行、为我们能拥有发言权而斗争。
我也呼吁美国的千百万外卖用户,特别是那些疫情以来愈发依赖外卖小哥的人——作为顾客,你们可以表达自己的不满,因为你们的小费没有达到预期目的。如果你和我们一样,必须为生活而工作,那么我们是站在同一阵营的。
你可以加入我们的请愿活动,并且利用社交媒体向外卖平台施压,改变这些剥削行为,方法是在你的帖子中添加标签,并向其他人分享这篇文章。
纽约市已经意识到了外卖平台的这种剥削行为,并且采取了措施,要求平台应向外卖骑手披露小费的确切金额。美国联邦贸易委员会也注意到了这个问题,并表示将采取行动,保障灵活就业者不受欺骗和不公平对待,包括对关于薪酬和工作条件的有关算法和不实宣传进行整改等。
我们现在需要的,是就此事引起连锁反应,最终改变权力的平衡,让这些公司无法再骑在我们头上为所欲为。比起我们需要他们,这些平台实际更需要我们——也就是工人和消费者。我们不能让他们忘记这一点。(财富中文网)
本文作者Stephanie Vigil是DoorDash平台的一名骑手,也是科罗拉多州第16区众议院的民意代表。
Fortune.com的评论文章仅代表作者个人观点,并不代表《财富》杂志的观点和立场。
译者:朴成奎
我做独立外卖骑手已经五年了(也就是所谓的“灵活就业者”),我在你能想到的所有第三方外卖平台上都干过。我是以独立承包人的身份干工作的,所以我在各个平台上的收入当然也是不一样的。不过在扣除油费和其他成本后,我能赚到多少钱回家,则在很大程度上取决于我拿到的小费。这种小费有时可以高达20美元,有时则一分没有。
本文并非是要让读者感到内疚,好让大家给外卖小哥更多的小费(尽管那样也不错)。相反,我是想揭露一些外卖客户大都没有意识到的事实——你在点外卖前慷慨的点击了“小费”,以为这样一来,外卖小哥会感激涕零快马加鞭地给你送餐。但现实情况下,如果你是在DoorDash等国外热门外卖平台上订外卖,那么你的小费有很大概率是被平台用来补贴其他服务了,你和外卖小哥都没要得到你们想要的,得利的只有平台一家而已。
现在大多数人已经习惯了吃外卖的生活,而且大多数人会自然而然地以为,如果我们给外卖骑手一笔小费,这笔钱会直接到达他的账号,你给的小费越多,等待时间就越短。然而事实未必如此。实际上,DoorDash在配送完成之前通常会对骑手隐瞒全额小费。也就是说骑手在把餐交到你手上之前,是不知道你慷慨地给了他那么多小费的。
假设你在外卖软件上点了餐,并且支付了3美元的配送费(这笔钱大部分会归骑手所有),然后考虑到餐馆离你家有8英里的路程,因此你好心支付了10美元的小费。那么在骑手端的APP上,他们应该是可以看到你支付的全部金额的。但通常情况下,APP会把一部分金额私藏起来,骑手只能拿到其中的一部分——比如4美元或者8美元,而不是原本的13美元。
如果骑手接了这笔订单,他们直到订单完成后才会发现这笔订单的总收入是13美元。听起来似乎骑手会有一种意外之喜的感觉,但是从长远来看,作为一个汇聚了众多骑手的第三方平台,这种套路并非一个很好的模式,因为骑手们需要准确的信息才能对是否接单做出决定。
但站在平台的角度看,很多情况下,顾客给的小费是很低的,甚至压根不给小费。这样的话,骑手们可能压根不会去接那一单,所以高小费的设定对平台是有利的。
问题是,高小费并不一定总会有,这就是平台为什么要玩“隐藏小费”的把戏。在美国,外卖小哥的基本收入是很低的,一般来说,短途的订单只能拿到2.5美元,或者3.5美元,稍远一点的订单也只能拿到3.25到3.5美元。有的时候DoorDash甚至会把几个订单打包到一起,里面夹杂着一两个没有小费的订单,好让它对骑手显得有吸引力一些。如果骑手接单了,平台可能还会扣掉50美分,最终的配送费用平均下来就是每单2美元左右。很多时候骑手如果觉得亏了,只能点击“取消派单”,而对平台违反自身条款的行为无可奈何。
DoorDash等外卖平台则表示,这种系统对顾客和骑手都更公平,而且就算骑手没有得到小费,它会向骑手提供基本工资。
话虽如此,但大型平台在这个问题上显然占据了信息优势,这是典型的“庄家通吃”。
这些外卖软件对骑手打出的广告是“给自己打工”、“当自己的老板”,很多骑手也正是因为这个目的才加入了送外卖的行列。但是平台操作数据的做法,却让这个APP变成了一台赌博机器。我们在接单时会不会想,我得接多少个4美元的单,才会从中间抽中一个20美元小费的订单?
这样一来,无论你是订餐的食客,还是送餐的骑手,你都不知道这一单的金额究竟与账面价值一致,还是在“抽奖”。当然你也可以给现金小费,但是骑手们还是得等餐送到了才能拿到小费,所以这依然没有意义。在非官方沟通渠道中(主要是通过社交媒体),骑手们对此事的见解不一。有的支持多接单,从而增加拿到高额小费的说明一下。还有的则认为应该对平台的这种做法说“不”,坚持可靠的中等报价。
针对这些问题,像Para APP这种骑手专用工具已经出现了,它们可以提高骑手的收入透明度,从而更好地管理他们的工作,这些工具在知情的骑手中非常受欢迎。当然,DoorDash等外卖平台正在想方设法地阻止骑手们了解相关信息,他们不想让我们知道我们能拿到多少报酬。但如果我真的是“自己的老板”,我就应该可以自由使用任何我觉得有用的工具,我就应该明确每项工作的条款,拥有我自己的数据,并且尽可能地把我宝贵的时间卖出一个高价钱。
然而在现实中,外卖配送产业仍在走过时的承包经济的老路,这种模式是在“过去车马都慢”的时代发展起来的,那时很多工作都有明确的权责界限。但是作为外卖骑手,我们的工作与网页设计师、水管工或园林设计师等其他自由职业者有着很大区别,平台派单的时候我们往往正在骑车,只有30秒左右的时间来考虑接单还是不接。外卖配送产业的规模化,和接派单的高速度,给平台留下了充分的混水摸鱼的空间。他们可能上一秒钟还是甩手掌柜,下一秒钟就变成了一个独裁的老板。除了隐藏关键信息之外,一些平台还存在强制暂停业务、难以删除的不公平和歧视性差评等问题,有时甚至武断地不向一些骑手派单,而且缺乏可靠的审查和恢复机制。
很明显,这些大型科技公司认为,打零工的骑手只不过是算法经济这部大机器上的一个螺丝钉,招募他们的意义就是为公司产生利润。这对他们来说是天经地义的事,而我们的经济也的确就是这样运转的。但从另一个角度看,目前美国已有6000万灵活就业人群。外卖骑手们必须团结起来,通过DriverRights.org这样的组织(这是一个由外卖骑手和灵活就业者组成的联盟),要求各大平台提供充分的透明度,为灵活就业者的权益、为法律法规的执行、为我们能拥有发言权而斗争。
我也呼吁美国的千百万外卖用户,特别是那些疫情以来愈发依赖外卖小哥的人——作为顾客,你们可以表达自己的不满,因为你们的小费没有达到预期目的。如果你和我们一样,必须为生活而工作,那么我们是站在同一阵营的。
你可以加入我们的请愿活动,并且利用社交媒体向外卖平台施压,改变这些剥削行为,方法是在你的帖子中添加标签,并向其他人分享这篇文章。
纽约市已经意识到了外卖平台的这种剥削行为,并且采取了措施,要求平台应向外卖骑手披露小费的确切金额。美国联邦贸易委员会也注意到了这个问题,并表示将采取行动,保障灵活就业者不受欺骗和不公平对待,包括对关于薪酬和工作条件的有关算法和不实宣传进行整改等。
我们现在需要的,是就此事引起连锁反应,最终改变权力的平衡,让这些公司无法再骑在我们头上为所欲为。比起我们需要他们,这些平台实际更需要我们——也就是工人和消费者。我们不能让他们忘记这一点。(财富中文网)
本文作者Stephanie Vigil是DoorDash平台的一名骑手,也是科罗拉多州第16区众议院的民意代表。
Fortune.com的评论文章仅代表作者个人观点,并不代表《财富》杂志的观点和立场。
译者:朴成奎
I have been an independent delivery driver (commonly known as a “gig worker”) for about five years now. I have done jobs on pretty much every third-party delivery platform you can think of. I do this work as an independent contractor, so of course my earnings vary from one offer to the next, but whether I can earn enough money to actually take home some pay after deducting fuel and other costs comes down to the tips I receive. I’ve seen tips ranging from $20 to no tip at all.
This is not written to guilt readers into tipping their delivery drivers more (though that would be great!). Instead, I want to expose something that the well-intentioned delivery customer likely does not realize: That generous tip you added before you clicked “order”? Well, it might not be incentivizing better or faster service as you’d hoped. The reality is, your tips are frequently used by DoorDash and other delivery platforms to subsidize the service for low-tipped offers and boost their profits at everyone’s expense.
Most of us order food delivery or delivery of some sort. And most of us assume that when we tip a driver, our money goes directly to them. You may even assume that if you tip more, you might get a shorter wait time. Unfortunately, this is not necessarily the case. DoorDash, in fact, often obscures the full tip from a driver up until the point that they’ve completed a delivery, and your driver would have no idea you tipped so generously until after they’ve handed your order to you.
Let’s say you’ve ordered a meal, paid a $3 delivery fee (which largely goes to the driver), and left a $10 tip for an eight-mile trip. On the driver’s app, they may see that whole payout, but frequently, the app will conceal quite a lot of the total and make a lower-paying offer to the driver–say, $4 or $8-not $13.
If the driver accepts this offer, they won’t get that big reveal until afterward. Sounds like that would be a welcome surprise, right? It does feel good in the moment–but in the long run, it’s not a great pattern if the idea behind the application is to be a platform for independent contractors, who need accurate information in order to make decisions about our work.
Since there are many cases when a customer leaves a low or even zero-dollar tip, and discerning drivers wouldn’t ordinarily take such weak offers, a delivery platform has a lot to gain by getting drivers to take the chance on surprise higher tips.
The thing is, that lucky hand doesn’t–and can’t–always happen, and that’s exactly why the platforms play the concealed tip game. The base pay is minuscule: $2.50 for short distances and $3.25 or $3.50 for anything more than a few miles. In fact, DoorDash will sometimes even stack a couple of offers, putting together a decent paying offer with an untipped offer, and then shaving off an additional 50 cents to try to get you to deliver one of them for $2 flat. You can only “unassign” so many offers after you’ve accepted them, even if the app company is violating its own terms.
Food delivery platforms like DoorDash say this system is fairer for both customers and drivers–and that it supports base pay when drivers don’t get tips.
But having such a clear upper hand on the disclosure of information is a powerful position for big tech platforms. The odds are all on the house, as they say.
They pose as applications on which you can “work for yourself” and “be your own boss,” and for the majority of drivers, this is precisely why we do it. Yet the manipulation of our data allows the company to turn that application into a sort of slot machine. How many $4 offers would you take if there’s an outside chance that one of them will occasionally pay you $20 or more? All of them? Half of them?
As a customer of both the independent driver who serves you and the food delivery app, you have no way of knowing whether your offer is being presented at face value or used to gamify the system. You could tip in cash, but again: discerning drivers don’t take such orders. In unofficial channels of communication, mostly via social media, drivers’ opinions on this matter vary wildly. Should you take more offers and thereby increase your odds of striking it rich on a “unicorn” offer, or should you say “no” more often and stick to reliable middling offers?
Driver tools such as the Para app have popped up to help drivers gain transparency into pay, operate more safely, and better manage their work, and they’ve been incredibly popular among drivers in the know. Unsurprisingly, DoorDash has been especially aggressive in putting up firewalls to block drivers from this critical information. They don’t want us to know what we will be paid. If I’m actually my own boss, I should be free to use whatever tools I believe are best for my work to have clarity on the terms of each job, own my data, and place a high value on my precious time.
Unfortunately, we are operating on an outdated model of contracted work that was established in a slower-moving time, and with more clearly defined jobs. Unlike a freelance web designer or plumber or landscaper, our contract offers pop up on a screen, while we’re driving, and we have sometimes as little as 30 seconds to accept or decline. The scale and pace at which we operate have left tech platforms just enough chaos to exploit: they can be hands-off like a non-employer one second, then suddenly very dictatorial bosses the next. Besides concealing crucial info like tips, there are also issues with forced pausing, unfair and discriminatory bad reviews that are difficult to remove, and even arbitrary deactivations, without a consistent review and reinstatement policy.
It is clear that big tech companies view gig workers as nothing more than pieces of an algorithmic puzzle the purpose of which is to generate profit. That’s their imperative of course–and pretty standard in our economy. But there is a different imperative: a call to action to the nearly 60 million Americans who work in the gig economy. Drivers–Let’s come together to demand full transparency via organizations like DriverRights.org, a coalition of drivers and organizations fighting for gig workers’ rights, enforcement of regulations, and a seat at the table.
I also call on the millions of Americans who rely on delivery drivers to bring us our food and supplies, and who’ve relied on this essential work to an even greater degree throughout the pandemic: You as the customer can voice your discontent that your generous tips don’t serve their intended purpose. If you, like us, have to work for a living, then we are on the same side.
You can add your voice to our petition and use social media to pressure the delivery platforms to change these exploitative practices by tagging them in your posts and sharing this article with others.
New York City has already recognized this exploitive approach by food delivery platforms and taken steps to require tips to be disclosed to delivery workers. The Federal Trade Commission is also taking note and has outlined that it will begin to take action to protect gig workers from deceptive and unfair practices, including algorithms and misrepresentations about pay and work terms.
What we need now is a ripple effect and ultimately a tidal wave that shifts the balance of power so that these companies can’t lord over us. They need us–workers and consumers–even more than we need them. We can’t let them forget that.
Stephanie Vigil is a DoorDash driver and representative for the Colorado State House, District 16.
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