“From Smiles to Society: What Online Deliveries Can’t Bring to Your Doorstep”
Online delivery has become the hallmark of modern civilisation. If cavemen had apps, they wouldn’t have gone hunting; they’d have tracked their mammoths online with a “same-day delivery” promise. But here we are, in the golden age of delivery dreams, where they claim to deliver “everything.” Well, almost everything.
Encouraged by this new-age revolution, I decided to test its limits. First on my list was smiles. Why not? A click, a cart, and—voilà—a box of happiness at my doorstep. But no! The delivery app politely told me, “Error 404: Smiles not found.” Turns out, smiles aren’t in stock. Perhaps they were being hoarded by influencers for Instagram.
Undeterred, I moved on to something bigger—free society. The app crashed. I guess it couldn’t process the weight of my request. A notification popped up: “Delivery unavailable in your region. Try Switzerland.”
Next, I tried ordering peace. Surely, that’s a bestseller, right? Nope. The algorithm went into a tailspin and threw up a suggestion: “Try our Premium Conflict-Free Guarantee—just $99 per year!” I was tempted, but with no user reviews to back it, I gave up.
Fine, I thought. Let’s aim for something achievable, like nobility. But even that came with a disclaimer: “Available only for politicians and billionaires.” It’s a niche market, apparently.
Feeling mildly defeated, I turned to something simpler: food. Oh, the joy of seeing endless cuisines! Until I realized that delivery charges were higher than my monthly grocery bill. Suddenly, a home-cooked meal sounded exotic.
But I wasn’t done. Onward to health! After all, every platform now talks about wellness. I found an item labeled “Fitness Guru Package,” which included yoga mats, overpriced powders, and a subscription to daily guilt notifications like, “Did you even plank today?” Delivery was guaranteed by guilt trips, but real health? Still out of stock.
Next up: education. Surely, this is where humanity shines! But the delivery apps only offered crash courses like “How to Impress Your Boss in 3 Days” and “Cryptocurrency for Beginners: Lose Money Like a Pro.” Real knowledge was apparently buried deep in a 10-day subscription paywall.
I figured I should end my spree with something universal: homes for all. Sadly, every listing came with the note: “Limited delivery. Terms and conditions apply. Landlords not included.”
It was a sobering moment. My cart, full of hopes, was now empty. The promise of online delivery had failed me. They could send me a pizza in 30 minutes, but peace, education, and homes? That might take a while.
But I’m optimistic! Someday, perhaps, there will be an app where you can swipe right for a better world. Until then, I’ll stick to ordering socks I don’t need and laughing at the absurdity of delivery drones dropping my toothpaste two blocks away.
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