The Invisibility of Men Gone Bad

I’m a big fan of Uber Eats.

When I’m working. When I don’t want to go outside. When I just want frictionless continuity in my day. I’ve placed hundreds—maybe thousands—of orders over the years.

And here’s something unsettling:

I can’t remember a single delivery person’s name. Or face. Not one.

I tipped every time. Reliably. Automatically.

But cognitively, so…