Striking Joker
🔴 7 YEARS AT DELIVEROO. CONSTANTLY EXHAUSTED. ALWAYS COUNTING EVERY SINGLE PENNY. THEN ONE NIGHT CHANGED EVERYTHING 🔴 My name is Bishop Kendra. I’m 28 years old. I live in London, in Croydon. When I first started working at Deliveroo, I thought it would only be for a few months. Just enough to clear my debts. But months turned into years. And here I am—7 years have passed. I work almost every single day. During the day on Oxford Street. In the evening out in East London. On weekends, while the whole city is out partying in Soho. When it’s pouring rain over the Thames. When the winter wind almost blows me off Tower Bridge. I’m always out on the streets. I wake up, open the weather app, and start doing the math in my head: "How many deliveries can I pull off today?" Because the truth is, you never really know. A good day? £120. A bad day? £45. And London slowly drains the life out of you. The rent. The petrol. Scooter repairs. Parking fines. Prices at Sainsbury’s and Tesco. Everything is getting more expensive—except for delivery pay. On the road all day. Endless traffic jams on Euston Road. Bus lanes. Stairs in old Victorian conversion flats without lifts. Door codes. "Where are you?" "Hurry up!" "I've been waiting for half an hour!" Sometimes the customer doesn't even open the door. Sometimes you lug a heavy order up to the fourth floor for a £1 tip. Then back on the scooter. Again. And again. The worst part is the evening. When you get back to your rented room, take off your helmet, and open the Monzo app. Only to realize that after a 12-hour shift... after tax and petrol, there’s practically nothing left. One month finally broke me. My scooter’s engine died—repairs cost £650. Late rent. Overdraft maxed out. When it all hit me at once, I had a grand total of £50 left for food until the end of the month. I remember sitting in the dark, scrolling through Instagram Reels. Suddenly, a video popped up. Another courier. Wearing the exact same teal Deliveroo jacket. With
