Note from Kuang:
汪海加是一名外卖骑手，个头不高，颧骨微微凸起，脸上的皮肤呈长期风吹日晒后的红黑色，略显沧桑。
他的微信名是“追梦人。”
Wang Haijia is a delivery worker. He is of medium height, with slightly high cheekbones. His face is reddish from exposure to the weather, which makes him look older than his age.
His WeChat name is 追梦人“dream chaser.”
*为保护受访人安全，文章所用为化名。
The interview is published under a pseudonym to protect the subject’s safety.
Wang Haijia, male, 42 years old, from Hebei, delivery worker
I was delivering food on a rainy day. I was in such a rush that I rode through several red lights to make it on time. After the job, the app notified me I was tipped 15 kuai. On my way back, I felt warm despite the rain.
I’ve been working in delivery for a long time, getting tipped is not something that happens very often. Sometimes when I’m late, I might get scolded by the customer. But most of the time, people treat me nice. Some customers even message saying not to rush and to put safety first.
Before working as a delivery man, I did many different jobs. I dropped out of school to work at construction sites before I finished junior high. I was carrying bricks in the beginning, and worked as a bricklayer sometime later. It took me a few years to do more skilled work like installing supports for buildings.
Dangers await everywhere in this kind of job. I was removing supports when one of them suddenly fell off on my head. I was out cold. Hospitalized for over two months. The accident haunted me. I refused to work on construction sites ever again. My life outweighs the money I’d make.
I came to Beijing, first waiting tables. Then I worked as a safety guard. It was a boring job. I was standing for over 10 hours a day. Next was a Japanese noodle restaurant for a few years . . . I kept switching among different jobs until I returned home to get married years later.
After my son was born, I stayed home to be around my wife and kid. Back home, there’s little work outside the steel factory. And it’s hard work. I was on regular night shifts in a horrible work environment. The pay wasn’t even good.
I worked there for two years. Meanwhile, my brother-in-law was a delivery worker in Beijing. He suggested I join him. He said we can have flexible working hours and get paid better than the factory. That’s when I started my current job.
I leave my place around 8 or 9 am every day, working until 10 pm. I usually grab some quick food like jianbing from street vendors or eat at those food stands for take-out only. They usually give us a few kuai discount. I spend at least 30 to 40 kuai on food every day.
Our pay for each delivery depends on the distance. From what the customer and the restaurant pay for delivery, the platform takes a big cut. We might only get 5 kuai out of a 15 kuai job.
We also need to worry about fines. Arriving late is one of the most common fines. Sometimes we’re only a few hundred meters away from our destination, but it’s already the designated arrival time. If we confirm our arrival early out of desperation, the system’s GPS will know and trigger the fine. But if we don’t confirm, then we’re counted as being late, and we get fined anyway.
All sorts of things can deter us from completing a job on time. Sometimes the customer has given a wrong address or phone number, or the restaurant has relocated but the GPS navigated us to the old address. But no “excuse” is allowed, if we’re late, we get fined, even if we’re not to blame.
Also, when customers file a complaint against us via the platform, we get fines too. We could get fined 50 kuai for a serious complaint. A bad review on the platform costs us 3 kuai, but if we get a five-star review, we get nothing as a reward. It’s cruel and unreasonable.
We’re sandwiched in the middle. The platform can take money from us and can fine us; the customers can be demanding and can file complaints against us; the restaurant can refuse an order and can be slow to provide food. We’re the ones with the least voice and the most restrictions.
Things were easier even just two years ago. There were more delivery service platforms. But now the industry is dominated by two major platforms who hold all the resources. No competition guarantees they can keep decreasing pay while shortening the time limits.
When things are good, I can get 40 or 50 jobs per day. But many days, I’m only able to get 20 or 30, which is less than 200 kuai for a day’s work.
When having a bad day, like when I get complaints from the customer, I feel so vexed and frustrated. I’ll ask myself why I’m still here doing this job. I’ll consider going back home.
But then a second thought would immediately wake me up: what could I do if I went back?
For people like me, our common dilemma is that where we call home, there are no jobs; but where there are jobs, it can never be home for us.
If we could choose, who would want to be far from family? It’s just we can find no way to earn a living back home.
My son is 7 years old. He is about to attend primary school. I try to provide for him as best I can. I count every penny I spend here and only rent a place that costs me 500 kuai per month. That’s probably the cheapest place one can find in Beijing nowadays. There’s nothing but a bed in the room. I can only lie down when I walk in. I don’t have any luggage but several clothes that I keep in a bag and put under the bed. I take my bath at a nearby public bathhouse which costs me 20 kuai each time, and use the landlord’s hand-washing sink to brush my teeth every morning.
During the daytime, I’m too busy to think that much. But before going to sleep at night, all my life problems bubble up, unsettling my mind. I think about how I have parents to support and a son to raise. The family responsibilities on my shoulder are only getting heavier. I’m over 40 years old, but still good for nothing.
I came to Beijing in my early 20s. I devoted all my youth to this city. After so many years, the city has paid me next to nothing in return. There is nothing to my name. Except for the bed that I pay 500 kuai per month to secure, my hands are empty.
汪海加，男，42岁，河北人，外卖员
上一次冒雨送外卖，我一路顾不得红绿灯，紧赶慢赶，把外卖准时送到了客人手里，离开之后，系统语音提示对方给了15块钱小费，回去的路上，我身上淋着雨，心里却很高兴。
送外卖这么长时间，给小费的客人不算常见，有时候餐没及时送到，还得挨几句骂。不过更多的时候，还是好人多，会发信息跟我说晚点到没关系，关照我骑行注意安全。
送外卖之前，我尝试过很多不同的工作。我十几岁初中没读完就出来打工，年纪小，只能在建筑工地搬搬砖，抹水泥，几年之后，才开始干更有技术含量一点的活，支模板，做木工。
干这一行很危险，有一次拆模板，一整块钢板掉下来，砸在我的后脑勺，我当场昏迷过去，送到医院，两个多月才恢复。那次的事，我想起来都后怕，再不愿意做建筑的活了，赚多少钱，把命搭进去都不值当。
身体恢复之后，我来北京一家餐馆当服务员，端盘，倒水，扫地；干了几年之后去当保安，一天站十几个小时，无聊得发慌；又换到一家日式拉面馆上了几年班……总之，做过很多工作，直到35岁，才回老家结婚。
有了孩子之后，我留在老家，陪媳妇孩子。老家几乎没什么我能做的工作，除了进钢铁厂，三班一倒，又脏又累，挣得还少。我在厂里待了两年，我妹夫在北京送外卖，跟我说不用像厂里受约束，一个月还能拿得比厂里多，我就又回到北京，跑起了外卖。
我每天早上八九点出门，一直到晚上10点左右回来，吃饭要么在路边摊买张煎饼，烤肠，烤冷面啥的，要么到一些外卖窗口买吃的，这些窗口一般对外卖员会有几块钱实惠。但是再怎么着，一天吃饭最少也要花三四十。
我们赚的配送费，主要看派的单子的远近，客户和商家出的派单费，平台得抽走一大半，比如说五公里以上的单子，客户和商家一起出15块钱配送费，经过平台的手，到我们手上顶多5块钱。
送外卖最怕的就是被罚单，超时，违规送达，提前点送达，都会被罚。有时候离配送点几百米，规定的配送时间已经到了，想提前点送达，平台都是实时地位，发现就扣钱，不点就是超时，还是一样扣钱。
有很多原因会导致我们超时，比如说有时候客户的定位不对，手机号打不通，或者商家已经换新店了，可地图上显示的还是旧地址，绕了半天根本找不到，但超时就是超时，即使不是我们的错也要被罚单。
另外，接到客户投诉，平台也罚我们钱，一单白跑，严重投诉罚50，不仅不赚还倒赔钱。一个差评扣3块，但是有好评了不加钱，就是这么霸道不讲理。
平台可以抽成可以罚单，客户可以提要求可以投诉，商家可以拒单可以出餐慢，我们被夹在中间，最受限制，最没有话语权。
前两年外卖好做一些，现在主要就两个大平台，资源都被他们撰在手里，没有竞争，骑手每一单的配送费压得越来越低，规定的配送时长越来越严格。一天好的时候能抢到四五十单，稍微多赚点，有时候只能跑到二三十单，一天下来除去油费只能赚一两百。
有时候碰到客人态度不好，我就感觉特窝囊，想着为什么要在这里受这个气，还不如回去算了。
可是回去能做什么？我们的困境就是，故乡没有工作机会，有工作机会的地方没有故乡。如果可以在老家，谁愿意远离家人，一个人在他乡？还不是因为在家找不到出路。
我儿子今年7岁，马上读小学，我尽量在我能力范围以内给他最好的。我在这里能省就省，住的地方500块钱一个月，大概是现在北京能找到的最便宜的地方了，屋子里什么都没有，只有一张床，进去只能躺着。我也没什么行李，几件换洗衣服装在袋子里塞在床底下。洗澡去附近的一个公用澡堂，一次20块，早上刷牙洗脸借用一下房东的洗手池。
白天忙活起来倒还好一些，一旦心静下来，比如说晚上睡觉之前，烦恼的事情就都浮现在脑海里，想到上有老下有小，家庭责任越来越重，四十好几，人到中年却一事无成。
我二十岁出头来北京，青春都奉献给了这座城市，奉献了几十年，到头来，这里仍然没有任何属于我的东西，没有任何属于我的地方，除了这500块钱租来的床铺，我什么都没有。
Kuang is the founder of Beijing Lights. She would love to hear your thoughts about the column and is open to new collaborations. She can be reached at kuang [at] spittooncollective [dot] com.