Students of Edi, here are exactly 11 reasons why your Deliveroo driver hates you

I’m a Deliveroo cyclist in Edinburgh. From a hangover-busting full English to that late-night condom delivery, odds are I’ve seen you all at your best, and believe me, at your worst. So here are a few reasons why my smile might slip as I hand over your Ting Thai this evening.

1. You make me walk up the stairs

It’s raining. I’ve cycled miles at breakneck pace to reach the incredibly unrealistic delivery estimate Deliveroo has said you’re expecting. My back creaking under the weight of two weeks’ worth of your groceries, I buzz myself in, hoping to find you there. But no. Instead, you expect me to haul my aching legs up four flights of stairs to your top-floor flat. Cheers.

Rush hour at Ting Thai

2. You live far away

Nothing is more depressing than lugging a Bross Bagels from Leith all the way to Marchmont, in the full knowledge that there’s an identical branch in Bruntsfield. Do your research people!

3. You live too close

You literally live above the restaurant. Come on, it would take you less than 30 seconds to go down and collect your own sushi. Look deep into your soul, and now down at your perfectly healthy legs. Now tell me, do you really, honestly, need me to bring that curry upstairs for you?

4. You don’t tip

This one’s straightforward. And before anyone says “I’m a student I can’t afford it”, ordering Deliveroo is expensive. If you can afford to blow £30 on two burgers and a milkshake, you can afford to leave me a couple of quid after I sprint up the stairs to give it to you.

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5. You don’t tell me your flat number

When you put in your address, how can you forget your flat number? What do you expect me to do, guess what flat you live in by the contents of your order? “Oh chicken korma, must be flat five.”

And please, make sure your address if the right way around. There’s nothing worse than going to block eight flat two, instead of flat eight block two, in the full knowledge that I’ve just been given a whole extra flight of stairs to climb. Plus, now I’m knocking on the door of some confused old lady who doesn’t understand why I’ve rung her bell at 11 pm holding eight boxes of cookie dough and some paracetamol. Get it right guys.

Me when you try and chat

6. You make me wait at the door

You have, at significant expense, ordered a takeaway. The app has sent you a notification saying I’m on my way. I’ve rung your downstairs buzzer and spoken to you on the intercom. And yet when I bang on your door you act like I’ve caught you unawares? You literally paid me to be here! Time is money on this job guys, please be ready to collect.

7. You chat

I’m busy. I’m cold. I’m tired. I’m working! I’ve got Deliveroo pinging me with a new order every five seconds. I don’t have the time to listen to your zooted ramblings on the nature of reality, or how trippy my bag looks. Make eye contact, say thanks, and we’ll both be on our way.

8. You open the door naked

Come on, you knew I was coming. You at least had time to throw on some trackies. Really not cool. That’s put me right off stealing any of your food. But at least the three McFlurries make sense now.

9. You order too much

Ordering 24 cans of Fosters and two litres of Coke might be great for beer pong but it isn’t cool for my back. If it’s too heavy for you to want to carry, I don’t want to be carrying it either! I’ve now resigned myself to the prospect of having back problems for life.

The weather every day if you tip me

10. You order basically nothing

I’m sorry but what is the point of me sweating all the way up Marchmont Road for a single avocado? The delivery fee is literally more than the food. Do you see those two long things at the bottom of your torso? Put one in front of the other, and walk to the corner shop I AM BEGGING YOU.

11. You live in Pollock

The place is a maze. Seriously, who actually knows where John Burnet house is? Asking Tarquin for directions doesn’t help, he never knows either. And please, please, if you’re going to order on Mummy and Daddy’s account make sure it’s your number on it. The number of times I’ve called someone at Chancellors and been answered by Rodger in Surrey who doesn’t know where his darling Tilly’s Civerinos goes is depressing.

Also, I know exactly how much you’re dropping on your room. Not leaving a tip also hits differently when I know exactly how much that ensuite is. You’re paying £9k for ‘catered’ accommodation, you can afford to tip me a few quid.

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