“I really wanted to order the Dorito’s shell taco from Taco Bell,” an iconic restaurateur recently told me. “But I don’t want to be spotted standing in line at Taco Bell. So I used Postmates and had it delivered to our offices. I do it all the time. If there’s some really embarrassing food I want to eat, I use Postmates. Every day a Postmates bag delivers some god-awful food to our door. No one knows the awful **** in there.”
I hadn’t even considered this. Food delivery services are the new way to eat an entire cake in a closet while you cry. No one has to know your dirty little appetite. Sure, many of you don’t care and will proudly order a family-sized bucket of KFC and eat it with your shirt off. You are enlightened and immune to food guilt. But there are legitimate reasons standing between good Americans and their crappy food choices.
Is the man at McDonalds starting to ask about kids you don’t have because you always order three Bic Macs? Postmates will protect you.
Do you really want a taco from that joint down the street, but one night you went home with a bartender and told them your name was Starchild? UberEats is the call, Starchild.
Has the polite man who owns the liquor store started giving you AA pamphlets? GrubHub can fit a lot of wine in the trunk.
Would you rather your friend who works at the grocery store not see you buy 14 different kinds of cheese? A cheese hearse is waiting for your order.
Is the donut shop next to your pilates class? A man in a car will get you a dirty dozen.
Are you a personal trainer with a forbidden love affair with the Frosty at Wendy’s? Your secret’s safe with food delivery.
Do you own a restaurant but know that your competitor’s burger beats the tar out of your own? It’ll be at your door in 45 minutes.
So thank you, Postmates, UberEats, GrubHub, all of you. You’ve become our buffer when it comes to ordering naughty foods. You take the shame—we take the fries, shakes, cheese, booze, and ill-advised happiness.