I Could Never Understand Ppl Who Don’t Like Hondas
I signed up for food delivery the day I turned 18 in 2019. Just me, an old iPhone, and a 1999 Honda that had seen better days. The transmission slipped so bad the car would jerk at stoplights, the paint on the roof was faded, and the oil leak meant I was always checking under the hood.
But that was my starter kit: one phone, one car, one mission—earn something, learn everything.
At first, I was pulling $10 an hour, chasing orders wherever they popped up, learning the rhythm of Baton Rouge one drop-off at a time. Every wrong turn, every late-night run, every red light became part of the grind.
I didn’t stick to one app—I ran them all. DoorDash, Waitr, Postmates, Instacart, Shipt, Roadie, Point Pickup. Each one had its own hustle, its own quirks. I learned how to stack orders, map out zones, and chase bonuses like side quests.
Before long, I wasn’t just delivering food—I was delivering alcohol, medicine, even home improvement supplies. My pay climbed: $18 an hour, then $21 once I got certified for alcohol deliveries.
The grind wasn’t smooth. That first Honda eventually got totaled in a wreck. But I bounced back with a 2007 Honda and kept pushing. I treated every mile like a business move—tracking patterns, testing strategies, building systems in real time.
Now, six years deep, I don’t just see Baton Rouge as streets and stoplights. I see it as a map of lessons. I know the apps, the angles, the shortcuts. I’ve seen the city from every block and back alley. And I’ve learned that hustle isn’t just about moving fast—it’s about moving smart, staying resilient, and turning every setback into a blueprint.






















































































