When post ‘mates’ leave the friend zone

Wikipedia Commons/Creative Commons

Postmates has infiltrated our lives since its creation and quickly is becoming an addiction so real that rehab clinics will soon be in high demand. It’s become a vital part of our existence and culture.

Celebrities might have their stint in rehab for the common coke addiction, while we here at UC Berkeley will be admitted for the both physically and fiscally lethal Postmates addiction. Don’t fear, alarmed reader, we at the Clog have included some tell-tale signs that this addiction is near and have kindly provided all you need for self-diagnosis. Admission is the first step to recovery!

Initially, downloading Postmates seems like you’re entering a whole new world. You feel so excited to join in this phenomenon and feel trendy and innovative with your newfound technological endeavors. The excitement escalates even further when you realize your first delivery is free. Consequently, you place an extremely aggressive order for you and friends, who are elated by your free delivery. But mostly, they’re excited about your initiation into the community.

This experience changes your life. It provides the quality of eating out with the comfort of staying in fetal position in your bed. You think to yourself, how could this get any better? Oh, comrade just you wait. Postmates doubles as both a solo mission and a group expenditure.

After a few weeks with your new found comfort, you begin to participate in those “Anyone wanna hop on a Manpuku order?” posts. You feel your social sphere expand exponentially. You become a social butterfly, there’s no order that you can’t join. You’re unstoppable. Everyone knows you as the Postmates legend, you become an instantaneous icon and role model.

After exposure to this new social scene, we start to negate being worldly humans and choose to stay in and use Postmates, rather than participate in the non-virtual world. This leads us to slowly start canceling any and all food-related social engagements. Lunch with our high school friends? Maybe another time. Brunch with our old GSI? Oh heavens no, too much human interaction for one sitting.

We appear to be going through a reverse metamorphosis. Rather than becoming the social butterflies we thought we were, we turn into anti-social caterpillars: both in the sense of us refusing to leave the comfort of our homey cocoons and the fact that we’re slowly gaining a few extra pounds. Who needs IM basketball with the “bros” when you have Artichoke coming right to your doorstep in 15?

It’s happened folks. Right before your own eyes you’ve lost all interaction with the outside world. You’re no longer a productive member of society. Your only ally is IOS10. You have the virus, the Postmates virus that is. You’re officially addicted. You can’t go a day without the rush of making an order. The thrill of watching your Postmate slowly approach your location on the map consumes both your central, and dare we say peripheral, nervous system. It’s only a matter of time before you’re the face of the Postmates awareness campaign. 

Thus, we at the Clog urge you to throw on your Crocs and socks and leave your home unit to enter into the world of non-virtual food before it’s too late.

Contact Nichole Bloom at [email protected].