A Love Letter To Postmates

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A Love Letter To Postmates

Dear Postmates,

Hey there. It’s your girl, Kendra. I just wanted to take a quick second and thank you for being you. We don’t get enough genuine appreciation in the fast paced, greedy, self-centered world of 2015 so this is me saying you, Postmates, are a true, true treasure. In the sea of useless apps, you have emerged like a shining, beacon of hope. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for existing.

Few people in this world know me like you do. Right off the bat when I open your sweet app, you greet with me my familiar faves and also $4.99 specials you think I might enjoy. You know I love a bargain, and a five dollar burrito delivered right to my door is not just a bargain, it’s badass. You don’t judge me for creating complex orders with declarations of, “I’ll try something new for a change,” only to jump right back to the same Mexican restaurant and go with old faithful. You know there’s comfort in consistency, and that is a gift.

You encourage the laziness in me that others attempt to shame. When I get home after a long day and can’t seem to find the motivation to turn on the oven or run to Target for more Brita filters, you’re right there for me. You don’t raise your eyebrows and quip, “Target is only a 20-minute walk, KENDRA.” Your little bike icon merely spins and with a little blip, you go and get everything for me, no questions asked. There’s no sarcasm, no condescending comments, just a couple of taps and all is right with the world.

I love when I get to introduce you to my friends and watch them fall in love with you, too. “You can get anything delivered? Like anything anything?” And their eyes will fill with wonder as we compile a list containing goodies with everything from Jack-In-The-Box to Whole Foods. Some loves are meant to be monogamous, but you, Postmates? I’m all about that poly life and spreading the good news.

Sometimes I get way too overwhelmed with technology and want to go live in the woods with nothing but dial-up and an old Motorola Razr. But you, Postmates, you remind me why 2015 is an amazing time to be alive. I sent you to pick up my new iPhone for me and then you stopped for a cupcake before swiftly dropping it off at my work. I not only didn’t have to deal with the goddamn Apple Store (which even the thought of brings me to heart palpitations and a migraine), I got a treat too! And all for the cost of $4.50 plus delivery. That is truly incredible.

Each time an iOS update comes up I scramble to make room on my phone and inevitably, some apps don’t make the cut. Kim Kardashian Hollywood? Girl, bye. Lyft? Please, I only use Uber. WebMD? Someone with as much anxiety as I have does not need a self-diagnosing machine just a tap and a buffer page away. But you always make the cut, Postmates. You and my 1100 photos go with me from update to update, sea to shining fucking sea.

I guess what I’m trying to say, Postmates, is that I think I’m in love. You took a girl who didn’t really care about having a smartphone aside from being able to send gifs and access YouTube from the palm of her hand and made her an unapologetic app lover.

You keep doing you, Postmates. And never change.

See you in 30 minutes with my tacos and dog treats.



Image via YouTube

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