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That’s me, as I fall off my bike carrying a food order.

It’s one of those bitterly cold days in January and the road I’m on wasn’t cleared properly. I’m now sprawled out on the road after hitting a patch of black ice trying to avoid a car.

A bystander does the right thing and asks me if I’m OK. The car is long gone.

“I’m fine. I’ll be OK,” I say almost automatically.

I mean, I think I’ll be OK. I hit my bad knee on the way down. It’s throbbing a little. It’s happened before that I’m OK at first and then later I’m in a lot of pain. It’s also happened that I can’t walk.

But I need to work. I need money. I can’t afford to be hurt.

I check my bag and the order is completely destroyed. My delivery bag is full of … something. Pepsi?

The food is undeliverable. I toss it away cursing. Then I sheepishly go to pick it back up and throw it in a bin. I’m not an a--hole. At least I think I’m not.

My delivery bag is a mess. My shift is done. I’m OK ... this time.

I’m 41 and I deliver food as a bike courier. I mean, I’m a DJ too, but during the pandemic delivering food was my only source of income for many months.

I’ve done this type of work for seven years for various apps. It’s always been a way to top up my income when I wasn’t able to hustle enough gigs. It’s allowed me to live in downtown Toronto with modest comfort. I’ve always thought of it as a rock that I could rely on.

Until it was the only thing I could rely on.

When the pandemic hit, my DJ career evaporated. One week I was playing in clubs and the next the whole world shut down.

I did the math and figured out what I needed to make to stay afloat. That’s an important detail to know about this line of work. You can’t say, “Oh I’ll work X amount of hours.”

No, you have a goal of how much money you need to make and you will have to work until you hit that goal. It could be easy one week and then another week you’re not able to get there. You just never know.

We don’t know how our pay is calculated. We just know it’s never enough so we rely on tips to earn a living wage. Half the time we don’t get any tips, so we just have to work more.

Working this job during the pandemic has been tough. There was a brief period when pay was great at the beginning. That quickly changed.

During the last two years we were simultaneously being called “essential workers,” while our pay was cut, we were left to go to the bathroom in the streets and our safety was completely disregarded.

I caught COVID-19 this past winter.

I’m not sure exactly how, but it could have easily been from one of the many people I delivered to who were not wearing a mask.

I politely asked one guy I met for a beer delivery to put a mask on and he gave me a thumbs down in the delivery app after. If I get enough of those, I’m fired. Customers have no consequences. They are right by default.

You’re probably wondering why the hell would I keep doing this job if it’s so bad? Why wouldn’t I do anything else?

Well, I like this job. I like biking. I like listening to my music. I like being fit and I like feeling powerful. I like being outside and knowing every corner of the city. I’ve been inside every building. The ones you see and you wish you could go into — I’ve been in them.

Other folks might say, “Well anyone could do your job, it’s unskilled so you get what you deserve.”

This makes my blood boil.

I’d invite anyone who feels this way to come out with me on a bike during a snowstorm. I bet they couldn’t last 15 minutes.

To do this job I have to be a mechanic, an expert navigator, be prepared for extreme weather changes and a daredevil all while providing excellent customer service. This is not unskilled labour. There is no such thing as unskilled labour.

Working this job during the pandemic has made me realize how imperative it is that we provide proper working conditions and protections for all. I have dedicated my life to organizing with my comrades and making sure this happens.

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