The Weirdest People I Met As A Postmates Courier



When Uber came on the scene in 2009, it revolutionized the idea of “convenience at cost.”

Customers saved tons of money using Uber instead of a regular taxi, while Uber drivers made an extra buck on the side driving whenever they could. Two years later, a company that specialized in delivering a variety of goods (with an emphasis on food) was born. I worked as a Postmates courier for a few months, and much like taxi drivers (and now Uber drivers), I was lucky enough to witness some crazy shit.

Drunken Nightfall Construction Man

My first delivery ever proved to be a strange one, to say the least. I had turned on my courier app and after only a few short minutes, a request came in. I clicked accept and raced to my car. The order called for a small lamp, a hammer and a 30 pack of Bud Light. I was confused and curious, but my job is to deliver the goods, not interrogate people on their seemingly weird intentions. I picked up all three items from Wal-Mart then headed to the customer’s house. I rang the doorbell, and a man wearing only paint-covered overalls and a face shield opened the door. I handed him his belongings, he signed for them, then smiled at me and closed the door. A strange way to start my career as a courier, to be certain. To this day I still wonder what the hell he was building back there, but I’ve seen Dexter enough times to know you don’t mess with a man holding a hammer and wearing a face shield.

The Recluse

Once when delivering in Irvine, I dropped a burger and fries off at an apartment housing a very trepid man. I rang the doorbell and waited for about 20 seconds. As I turned to walk away, I heard the door creaking open. I turn back around to see the creepiest eyeball I’ve ever seen staring back at me. His eye kept darting wildly back and forth between my face and his bag of food.

“Oh, um, hello sir. I’m Sean, I work for Postmates, I have a delivery for you.”

“Leave it.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Leave it on the doorstep!”

I walked back towards the door to leave his food where people normally have welcome mats. I dropped the bag on the floor in front of the door.

“Ok, sir, but I still need you to sign here so that it’s documented that you received your del–”

“Sign it yourself, give whatever tip you want.”

After he slammed the door shut, I began briskly walking to my car while signing away the $50 tip this man just gave me, because I’ve seen Dexter enough times to know you don’t mess with people that are that secretive. Damn, I need to start watching a new show.

The Sorority Girls

I got a request for six bottles of champagne once. I walked up to the front door of the house and rang the doorbell. You’d think I’d died and went to heaven, because seven or eight scantily-clad women opened the door and all started praising my name, like I had just saved them from Armageddon. They loved me so much that they even invited me inside to party with them. Keep in mind, I have yet to say anything at this point, considering how hard it is to speak over the chorus of “woot woot!” Eventually when they quieted down, I explained to them that I was low on cash and really needed to make some money, so I politely declined. I still consider it one of the most boneheaded blunders ever committed in the history of the world.


The Gamers

On one of my last trips ever was a request for several bags of candy and a 24-pack of Coca-Cola. When I arrived at the house, I was greeted by a friendly young man in a large Dragon Ball Z t-shirt. Society would call this type of person a “nerd.” As I handed him his candy and soda, I managed to peek inside his apartment. There was a long table with 7 or 8 other guys on it, all playing the same game on their laptop, a game called League of Legends. Around the boys was a sea of candy wrappers and a variety of crushed cans, ranging from Mountain Dew to Red Bull.

“Hey driver guy, you ever play League of Legends? You wanna play? We need one more player, we have an extra laptop and everything. It’ll be super sick man.”

“Ummm…alright, maybe one game.”

Four hours later, I was finally on my way home with a stomach ache, a brand new League of Legends account, and a sudden realization that I, too, am one of these “nerds.” Postmates taught me that I draw the line at potential serial killers and beautiful women, but nerds are my weakness. Dexter would be disappointed.

The Dildo Connoisseur

I once received an order that required five or six double takes from me before I accepted the request. After rubbing my eyes cartoonishly, I looked down again and realized it was real.

Some guy named Charlie wanted me to deliver an 18″ double-sided dildo to him from Condom Revolution.

Penis delivery. This is my life now.

I got to ConRev and lo and behold, there she blew, all 18 veiny inches of her. The wall was adorned with a variety of different shapes, sizes, materials and colors. I was beginning to feel awkward and remarkably ill-equipped, so I grabbed the $50 dildo and took it to the checkout counter.

The first thing I did was inform the employee (who actually looked like she meant to work at Hot Topic and just got lost) that the monstrosity in my hands was not for me and was for a friend. Only later did I realize how poorly I chose my words, considering that it was a double-sided dildo. She didn’t even try to hide the fact that she didn’t believe me.

I purchased the Gut Blender, which thankfully came in a very large, opaque bag and informed the customer that I was on my way. When I got there, he greeted me outside of his home.

“HA HA HA! Oh my god, I can’t believe you picked it up! You actually bought it! That’s so funny.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, I just ordered it as a joke, to see if you would actually buy it or not, and you did! It was totally just an experiment.”

“Oh, ok. Well, do you still want it?”

“Yeah, I mean…I guess so, since I paid for it. Might as well. Maybe I’ll melt it down and make a tire out of it.”

Suddenly the look on the ConRev employee’s face when I was purchasing the dildo made perfect sense.


Leader Image Photo Credit: Postmates

Features Hit-Or-Miss

An Ode To Fresh Carnitas

I approach Grand Central Market. Eyes open, stomach ready to be fed. With one step into the facility, my nostrils contract in shock. Hundreds of aromas float through the air, but there is one that has captivated me. I am no longer me, but an animal who has smelled the unmistakable scent of fresh flesh. I saunter cautiously throughout the establishment, wherever my body takes me. I am in full primal mode, deferring to the whim of my instincts.

Several creatures pass me, as the trance-like state that has consumed me is causing me to travel at a stoic pace. If I were lower on the food chain, I would have been trampled and devoured like yesterday’s meat. But I am no hyena. I am the Queen of the Jungle. Strong, careful, alert. Waiting to meet my reward. Ready to pounce, but only at the right moment.

I pass various other members of the Animal Kingdom acquiring their feed, the strong asserting their influence over the weak. Whoever eats first will reign supreme. I could be impatient like the serfs before me, but my inner lioness only wants the best, the freshest.

A photo posted by @willcpan on

With every pace in the right direction, my taste buds erupt in perspiration. My tongue is tingling. My body is engaged. Soon, I will succumb to the pleasure that awaits me.

Suddenly, I stop in my tracks. The target has been spotted. The sight that lies before me is pure magnificence. I praise my restraint for approaching prudently, without bringing attention others. Lionesses don’t share. Before me is a heap of fresh carnitas, picked from the bone mere moments before. It is a vision of grandeur unlike any other. The steamy, seductive mass burns into my retinas, an image that will never be forgotten.

I hold the carnitas in my hands. I can feel its energy, its purpose, its story. My thoughts amble slowly over the previous life of this flesh until my saliva overflows like a dam that has been comprised. I can’t wait any longer. Fervently, and with a profound hunger, I scarf the meat into my mouth. A familiar feeling of ecstasy washes over my being, but with an unprecedented intensity.

A photo posted by @xel Chali (@axlkid) on

I eat and eat until there is no more. I lick my chops, as my meal comes to a close. Sated, yet still hungry, for the next time we meet again.


Everything I Learned By Gutting My Own Sardines

America: land of the free and home of the red meat. My parents grew up on an island in the Caribbean and passed their love of seafood down to me, a love often misunderstood by my young peers. Rolling into the cafeteria with a tuna fish sandwich or sardine pâté was a recipe for scrunched noses and table abandonment. Luckily, I, much like Janice from accounting, didn’t give a fuck and kept on loving my smelly lunches.

Cut to adulthood. As it turns out, a lot of people like fish so much that they’ll eat it raw and pay top dollar for it too. I could finally relax and enjoy my canned sardines in peace…well, almost. College J. quickly realized that mommy wasn’t gonna be around to expertly gut and debone their fish anymore.


Yup, There’s Still Guts In There

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Most people who eat canned sardines just plop the suckers on some crackers or pizza as is because the cooking/steaming process at most canneries softens the bones to the point where they’re edible. I, naturally, am one of the few people who has choked on sardine spine and I’m not at all down for a repeat performance.

I’ve Choked On Sardine Spine

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Okay, yes, they already gut sardines at most canneries, but they don’t always do such a great job. Every time I slice open one of these bad boys, there’s at least a little bit of intestine left, but there can also be surprising things like eggs or a somewhat digested smaller fish. The bitterness of sardine intestines is enjoyable to some, but I’m not really interested in eating fish poop.

It’s Disgusting And Relaxing, Simultaneously

I’ve only caught a fish once in my life, but it was with my bare hands, so that’s pretty badass for a 4-year-old. I immediately let it go because 1) Ewwwwww and 2) fish are really slippery when they’re alive. This is the only time in my life where I’ve been remotely close to actually killing something for my consumption, despite a considerable amount of my family members knowing how to butcher everything from chickens to goats.


So, I’m not gonna lie, the first time I laterally sliced open the tail-end of a sardine to reveal a plethora of fish eggs, I gagged throughout the whole process. I got through it because there’s something about gutting a fish that melts away the modern luxuries of my apartment. There’s an unusually rustic appeal to getting fish scales on a manicure that I can’t find while preparing other foods.

I don’t think I’ll ever fully get used to it, and I often feel a momentary spur to give up meat all together as I dissect these once living creatures. But then, I make a pâté and spread it on some water crackers.

And that shit is delicious.


The Keurig of Booze Has Arrived: A Personal, Robotic Bartender Named ‘Monsieur’


If you’ve ever fancied coming home to find a robotic bartender waiting for you with a stiff drink, this could be the answer to your prayers.

Last week, the four-person company Monsieur moved towards selling a home version of its automated bartender — a small contraption that mixes drinks for you and is able to learn your moods, needs and preferences to make sure it always serves you the right drink, at the right time, no matter how discerning your tastes.


The baby brother of a much larger, industrial machine that can be found in a number of establishments in Atlanta (where the company hails from), the Monsieur can mix thousands of drinks and features a touchscreen menu of everything it has to offer. It also comes complete with themes such as Cinco de Mayo and serves the appropriate drinks to go along with such as margaritas or mojitos. Users can increase or reduce the strength of any desired drink or even ask for a non-alcoholic version. Or, for the more adventurous, there’s always the “surprise me” button. The more the machine is used, the better it becomes at understanding its owners’ tastes and preferences.

However, this wouldn’t be a truly ‘smart’ gadget if it didn’t come complete with an app, and the Monsieur is no exception. The app can be used to remotely order and mix a drink while you’re not at home and the machine can use the app to know when you’re coming home and what sort of drink it should have ready for your return. Even cooler, or creepier (whichever way you choose to look at it), the Monsieur connects to your Wi-Fi network and can recognize when you come home based on your mobile joining the network. He can also ascertain if you’ve got company based on how many people join the network when you arrive home and make enough drinks to satisfy your guests. Crazy stuff.

Like all good barmen, it will know when to stop serving its obliterated clientele. It can monitor blood alcohol levels and can even call a cab if it deems this necessary.


This beauty is going to cost you. Monsieur Mini, with a four-liquid container capacity, is $1,499, while the eight-container machine, is $2,699. But by all means, if you’ve got $1,500 bucks lying around, go for it.

The company has turned to Kickstarter to bring the device not only into the home, but into bars, clubs and hotel lobbies around the world and is looking to raise $100,000 USD towards further development and manufacturing costs so it can build and ship out its first batch.

H/T Mashable + PicThx Monsieur