I worked for a while doing bike deliveries for Postmates one college summer. Besides a woman who told me, sweaty from biking to the shop in the New York summer, that the delivery, an elaborate pastry in a mason jar, couldn't go in my bag and had to be carried two miles by hand, the most memorable interaction I had was an absence. After waiting in line at Shake Shack for twenty minutes and biking ten more, I was greeted at the door of this upper west side apartment by a woman holding a broom. I heard FPS sounds in the distance. Kyle or whatever gave me no tip. I made $4 that hour.