Coffee Stained Stories

Emily Carr University of Art + Design | July 2, 2019

So, today I did a thing. Out of desperation, I finally caved: I got myself an Uber Eats account. And this is a rant about my very first Uber Eats experience.

This is how it happened. I’m at Emily Carr for the evening, determined to spend a couple of hours here and work on my assignment and some of my writing projects. I really should have planned this better, but as soon as I get myself a nice, empty classroom with large windows, I realize that I am starving. I should have grabbed something to eat on my way over here. 

And here’s the thing. If you haven’t been to the new Emily Carr campus, first of all, it’s beautiful. As a non-artsy human, it feels to me like a place of inspiration, creative work, and just all the cool things. But there’s no food options around. Tragic. There’s Loafe Café on the main floor, but it’s closed after business hours. There’s a food truck outside, also closed. I hear Nemesis is opening a new location right here, but it hasn’t happened yet.

I am not about to walk over to Red Truck Brewing and get myself a pint of pilsner with a burger. There are good food options on Main Street and along Olympic Village, I know. But all I wanted to do tonight, really, was to sit in an empty classroom and have some quality work time. Not only that, I am already pretty darn hungry.

And this is it. I resort to Uber Eats. I had rejected the idea of signing up for a food delivery app for so long, never giving into societal pressure. Not even with those $5 off referral promo codes. But tonight, I’m desperate. I look up Uber Eats, type in a postal code, and it gives me my delivery options before I even have to sign up. There’s a Thai place not too far away. Estimated wait time: 25-30 minutes. I could use a Pad Thai. I’m sold.

I make an account, input my credit card information, sell my soul, and boom. Just like that, I’m an Uber Eats user. But that’s okay, because my dinner is on its way. And it’s going to be well worth it. Dammit.

I obsess over the progress bar. I get a little too excited when I see that someone has picked up my food. It even gives me the driver’s name and his face. The little vehicle on the map gets closer and closer to my location. It says he should be here any moment. But I notice that the vehicle’s driving round and round the block. Maybe he can’t find a parking spot? Or maybe he’s trying to find the right building. The intensity of my stare at the little vehicle on the map only grows. It finally stops moving.

My phone rings. “Hi, is this Emily?” 

“Uh, no this is Sarah.” Oh no, he has someone else’s order.

“Hmm. Oh, Emily CARR. Sarah, I’m on my way up to the fourth floor.”

And then I hear someone else speak in the background. Apparently the security guard needs me to pick up the order at the lobby. Sure, I head down and find a guy with a delivery bag. “Sarah? So sorry I wasn’t able to come up…” Oh, no, that is totally okay. He is very apologetic. He walks out, gets on his motorcycle, and drives off. 

I grab a seat in the lounge area, open the plastic bag, and find my Pad Thai. But… there’s no chopsticks, no forks, nothing?

So many thoughts go through my head that in that short moment. Where do I direct my anger towards? The restaurant? The driver? Uber Eats? Myself for caving and getting delivery in the first place?

Or am I expected to just have cutlery on me at all times? I mean, we are all trying to move away from our one-time use plastic consumption. So that makes… sense?

Again, the one cafe in this building is closed. There are some evening classes in session, but the building is pretty empty otherwise. I don’t know this campus well enough to try and look for forks where no one else might suspect there would be. I’m not venturing out of the building now, after I signed myself up on Uber Eats and got my food delivered.

Thinking I knew this was a bad idea, I start walking around. I go behind the cafe where the vending machines are to see if there so happens to be plastic cutlery. But of course, life ain’t that easy.

But… the cafe’s counter isn’t closed off, and I see a basket of fettuccine stir sticks.

It’s tucked away into the side, but definitely reachable. I look around, ready to make eye contact with any security guards or custodial staff that walk by and offer an embarrassed smile. I mean, it does look shady, trying to reach over into the counter when the cafe’s closed.

Rather triumphantly, I manage to grab two fettuccine sticks. I allow for a moment to laugh at myself, and return to my chair.

I’m quite certain flimsy fettuccine sticks wouldn’t make such good-quality chopsticks, but you know, it’s the best I’ve got here. Pad Thai noodles are pretty sticky, so within two or three bites, one of my sticks break off in half. The food itself is alright enough, not that it matters at this point. Slowly, I take my careful, small bites.

I make it through maybe a third of the dish, when the sticks become way too short to be used as chopsticks. I go back to grab some more fettuccine sticks.

This time though, I notice something else next to the fettuccine sticks: paper straws. Paper straws don’t sound overly promising either, but I figure I’d give it a try.

To my surprise, the pair makes for reasonably sturdy chopsticks. The first bite with these paper straws, I accidentally pick up a little piece of broken fettuccine that fell into my Pad Thai. Ow, my teeth. And what a challenging meal.

Moral of the story? Paper straws make for much better makeshift chopsticks than fettuccine sticks. Or, always have an emergency cutlery set on you? 

I am really not quite sure. But it’s always these little things. It’s the little things that either make your day and send you off with a big smile, or break your heart and leave you shattered. Or in this case, turn you into a monster and expose your petty, entitled self.