Free or exploited? The lives of platform-based gig workers
There are thousands of platform-based delivery gig workers in Bangladesh, but there is no system or structure that supports them. The home delivery jobs come with uncertainty, limited pay, stress, absence of paid sick leave or paid holiday covered by the employer, and more concerning issues
Samiul Islam used to work long arduous hours under the supervision of an unpleasant boss in an ice cream factory. Samiul wished for his hectic life to change for the better.
"I had no freedom. My boss was rude. He would turn me down whenever I asked for leave or anything. Back then I wished I had a different job where I would have a little freedom," Samiul told The Business Standard.
One day, Samiul's life changed and his wish would come true.
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He was in love with a girl from his village. When Samiul asked his parents' permission to marry her, they demanded dowry from the girl's parents. "I couldn't imagine taking dowry from the girl I love. So I took her hand and ran away from home," he said.
But his boss at the ice cream factory would not grant him leave when the newlywed couple went into hiding, so Samiul quit the job.
He rented a small room in the capital's Rampura area; spent a few weeks on the money he had in savings from working in the ice cream factory.
Soon as the money dried up, Samiul took up platform-based food delivery as a career.
For the last six months, he has been working as a food delivery man in the capital's Khilgaon region. He rides an old, battered bicycle to deliver food from restaurants to customers' doorsteps.
The best part of Samiul's new job is that he now has the freedom he craved so much. He is now in 'control' of his own days.
In the middle of the day when his wife calls him saying she has a bad headache, Samiul can race back home to take care of his beloved. And when he wants to take a day off, he does not need anybody's permission to do so.
But what does this 'freedom' really look like? Is Samiul truly free? To witness how his days as a food delivery man work out, we spent an entire day with Samiul and dropped food and groceries with him to more than 15 homes in Khilgaon.
Be careful what you wish for…
After a tiresome day of making deliveries that started at 10 in the morning and ended at 11 in the night, Foodpanda rider Samiul earned only around Tk550.
"My life has never been so stressful and uncertain," he sighed while sipping tea in a roadside tea stall late in the night.
Samiul works approximately 10 hours a day with only one break in between. His earnings per work hour have not increased when compared to the past job. In the last six months, he could not take a single day off unless he fell sick or the platform he worked for banned him.
The platforms often ban delivery persons. This usually means the gig workers are placed under three day suspension; and the reason behind the ban may stem from customers' complaints, not making delivery on time, etc.
He lives in a self-imposed restriction from taking leaves because whatever he earns – on average about Tk600 for approximately 9/10 hours of work – he earns it only on the days he works.
Foodpanda pays the riders based on distance. According to Samiul and other riders we talked to, full-time riders, on a good day, can earn up to, at best, Tk700-Tk800 for about 10 hours of work.
On weekends, if he does not work, he does not have a dime in his pocket.
A thin and tall Samiul does not talk that loudly, but has clarity of thought.
"You know how much the prices of groceries have gone up. If I don't work every day, it is really hard to survive. Not working one day means a day of no income," explained a dejected delivery man at the end of the day, adding that he has become tired of the platform-based gig work's description of 'freedom.'
Foodpanda delivery man Samiul, whose name we changed at his request, is one of the thousands of platform-based delivery gig workers in Bangladesh who laments the uncertainty, stress, earning/working hour ratios, absence of paid sick leave or paid holiday covered by the employer, minimal job security, or dismissal notice periods, etc.
However, among these workers, even though many do not have a clear idea about different aspects of the work itself, some are actually happy doing it.
Alok Kumar, a man who hails from Joypurhat has been delivering food for more than five years now, riding a bicycle.
"When I joined as a Foodpanda delivery man five years ago, I started to earn more than what I made as a security guard [his previous job]. So I took the [food delivery] job seriously. Then I worked for UberEats, and now I am delivering for Pathao," said Alok.
"I will say I chose this life. I regard this as my own business. My cycle is my investment, so is my mobile phone," he added.
However, Alok Kumar, apparently the happiest and smartest of the delivery men we met, said that "I am ageing and I am alone."
His hair is greying and he does not dare to marry, because he believes he will not be able to support his family well with the income he makes. He lives alone in a small room he rented out for himself.
"I have no one. And I cannot risk marrying a girl to ruin her life. With what I earn, I can live happily, alone" Alok said.
Pathao pays Tk40 to Tk60 per delivery irrespective of distance. Alok said he can earn up to Tk1,000 on his workdays and thus around Tk15,000 a month.
Pathao and Foodpanda were contacted for comments. However, they did not respond before this article went to print.
'Wish we had a basic salary, paid leave and bonus'
Imran Khan, a young man from Netrokona, rides for Daraz's HungryNaki, another food delivery platform like Pathao Food and Foodpanda.
Unlike dozens of Pathao or Foodpanda riders lining up the street in Taltola, you will sparsely spot the HungryNaki riders dressed in orange-coloured uniforms.
Imran is still a student and has a family to support back home with whatever amount he makes working as a delivery man.
"I get Tk40 per delivery along with Tk8,000 in basic salary. If I can manage eight deliveries per day, I can earn around Tk16,000 per month," Imran said.
He is happy about the basic salary system that Daraz has for its delivery men, but fears, based on rumours he heard, that the basic salary system may be withdrawn after Eid this year. This system allows him to enjoy a paid day off as well.
What Imran likes and fears losing is a much needed respite - a common issue that dozens of other gig workers also shared with us.
Among them, Foodpanda's Ashraf and Pathao's M Farid said HungryNaki riders' delivery orders are not anywhere near as they make, but the delivery men there do better because of this basic pay structure and the benefits system.
"We wish we had a paid day off like them. See, you will go home on Eid with a bonus, but when I go home during Eid, basically my income dries up. I also wish I had a bonus, and that I had a paid leave," Farid said.
Delivery men's advice: 'Don't do this' vs 'do this only if your income doesn't matter'
Imran Akhund, a delivery man for Paperfly, is a first-year BBA student at National University.
"I can earn around Tk300 by delivering for four hours. What I am earning is good enough for me," said Akhund.
He said Paperfly pays Tk16 per order if 95% of your days' deliveries are served, Tk11 for 90% and only Tk7 for 85% or below.
"I don't have a father, but my elder brother and elder sister contribute to the family. I also contribute but it doesn't matter if I don't. So what I earn is okay for me," said Akhund.
As per Akhund, this sort of gig work is fine if your income is not the only source of your family's bread and butter.
But for Samiul, the newlywed husband, things are not the same.
On the day we delivered food with him, he got an order from the Shantibag area that was placed at a restaurant on the edge of Sipahibag, which almost falls inside Meradia.
After biking to the restaurant for 20 minutes through mad traffic made up by rickshaws near the Dhaka Hotel point in Tilpapara, and the sun beating down on us, when we finally reached to pick up the food for delivery, the customer cancelled the order.
Samiul contacted the Foodpanda office and after waiting for some 10 minutes, the cancellation issue was resolved. We asked Samiul how much he was compensated for the cancellation. He showed us his mobile phone screen.
Tk1.8! for half an hour cycling in Dhaka's traffic, dust and scorching heat.
"Suppose I die in a road accident while biking [which is quite regular in Dhaka], I have no protection. My employer will send sympathies and that's all," Samiul said.
"Even after the risk we take, I encounter customers who wouldn't even hesitate to slap me because I requested him to take the food from the gate, as he doesn't have a lift, and my cycle could be stolen or I am tired; it has also happened because I didn't have change for Tk1,000 note.
I encountered many such situations where customers misbehaved. Yes, most customers behave very well. But it is always us who have to adjust and the platform bans us often for our many mistakes [such as arriving late, etc]," Samiul said.
On the roadside tea stall, when the clock neared 12 at night as we were speaking, Samiul's wife called. She is waiting to have dinner with her husband. Samiul hurries up to leave.
He said that "If someone wants my advice, I will say never work as a delivery man if you have any other option. Whenever I get an alternative option, I will quit this too."
