Times can get tough for a college student. Homework piles up, midterms loom and the end of the world feels near. Suddenly, DoorDashing a late dinner seems like the perfect last resort. 

For many USC students, week by week, this option slowly turns into a habit. It eventually becomes easy to forget what makes this convenience possible: Behind every delivery is a person, and behind that person is a system that determines how workers are paid, protected and legally classified. 

As students become more accustomed to having things delivered to them at the push of a couple buttons or swipes, that system becomes easier to overlook. This normalization of on-demand delivery has helped create a culture in which convenience has become something we expect, and has shaped the ways in which we consume as well as the way we treat delivery drivers. 

As students become more accustomed to having things delivered to them at the push of a couple buttons or swipes, that system becomes easier to overlook. This normalization of on-demand delivery has helped create a culture in which convenience has become something we expect, and has shaped the ways in which we consume as well as the way we treat delivery drivers. 

In November 2020, California voters approved Proposition 22, which classified app-based delivery drivers as “independent contractors” rather than employees.

Supporters of the proposition argued that it gave drivers the flexibility to work around their own schedules. Under Prop. 22, drivers also receive certain benefits, including healthcare subsidies and a minimum earnings guarantee. 

Uber, one of the companies which supported this proposition, framed the law as a way to preserve flexibility while expanding benefits. After the proposition passed, Uber CEO Dara Khosrowshahi stated that “even though we’ve won the vote, we’re still not done. In fact we’ve only just begun to improve independent work.” 

However, the change to being classified as independent contractors meant protections such as unemployment insurance were no longer awarded to the apps’ employees. Opponents of the legislature further point out that Prop. 22 was heavily backed by the companies that benefited from this law: Lyft, Uber, Doordash and other gig companies spent roughly $200 million campaigning for the proposition. 

For the customer, most of this system is inevitably and deliberately invisible. 

All we see is the stuff we ordered, the delivery fee and the estimated arrival time. We don’t see the costs of driving or the legal structure that makes this convenience possible. 

Nevertheless, especially in times of stress, the convenience offered by such apps are an attractive solution. 

For busy USC students, where a day can be split between juggling classes, studying, clubs and work, having food delivered to your door can feel like less of a luxury and more like a bare minimum to save time. It almost turns the practice into something deserved after having worked hard.

Emily Chavez, a senior majoring in political science and journalism, said she noticed this sentiment among her classmates, particularly during midterms and study sessions. 

“I think even on social media, you see [people] all the time just saying … how they find DoorDash or UberEating relaxing,” Chavez said. “You kind of just become very accommodated to that kind of pattern.” 

Chavez’s experience points to an interesting case of the bandwagon effect in which people adopt behaviors and habits of the people surrounding them: When ordering food becomes something everyone around you does, it morphs into a normal part of student life. 

Unlike other forms of consumerism, such as retail shopping in which buying something new usually requires a conscious decision, food is something we already consume everyday. 

There is a greater culture of convenience webbing, of which Doordash is just one example.

Streaming services, for example, mean we rarely have to leave home to watch a movie. Online shopping means we can have almost anything delivered to our door. 

Shantanu Dutta, a professor of marketing at the Marshall School of Business, said convenience has become increasingly important to the way consumers choose services, particularly among younger consumers living on campuses. 

“There is much more of an app-driven culture, and convenience has become much more important than it was, let’s say, 10 years ago,” Dutta said. “If you’re a student working on projects, deadlines and exams, it’s understandable that if you have this flexible option, you will take advantage of that.”

This urgency makes the increasing culture of convenience reactionary, a response to the time pressures that students face. Maybe the appeal of the convenience of delivery is that it gives us something valuable that is difficult to get back: time. Paying a few extra dollars can feel like a reasonable exchange for having one less thing to worry about. 

The larger issue is the system that has been built around making convenience something marketable, and Prop. 22 is indefinitely part of that system. By classifying delivery drivers as independent contractors, it allows apps to rely on a flexible workforce that can fulfill orders on demand, supporting the convenience consumers have come to expect. 

But the more these services become integrated into everyday life, be it through streaming, ride-sharing or grocery delivery, the more normalized that level of convenience becomes.  

There isn’t necessarily anything wrong with that in and of itself. But this expected convenience inarguably changes our relationships with time and effort. 

Convenience should make our lives easier, not become something we expect.