Between Rain and Roads: A Tale of Two Customers | Passion Projects | Education | 56494

It was the 18th of August 2025, and at 5:00 am my day began. I woke up to the quiet darkness of dawn, prayed, and prepared myself for the day. The breakfast was simple yet fulfilling, and the pleasure of a cup of coffee afterwards. I then permitted myself to sleep off again, only to be awoken once more around 11:00 am, refreshed and ready for work.

As I was going to leave, I did a quick inspection of my cycle—brakes, chain, and tires. At 12:15 pm, I was ready for the Foodpanda ride. The mission, as always, was easy: deliver more orders and earn the extra rewards.

The orders continued to pour in, and I moved from point to point, navigating the familiar Chattogram roads on my cycle. All was going well in mid-afternoon. Close to 3:30 pm, I received an order from Sultan’s Dine. The pickup point was 2 No. Gate and I had to drop it around Chatteswari Road, and I was greeted by a polite customer with a smile. He even gave me a tip of 75 taka—a magnanimous gesture. That single act of kindness lifted my spirits, and I pedaled on with a smile.

All rides are not alike.

My last order of the day was at 4:45 pm from Fry Guys, Lalkhan Bazar. The order was on-demand but took longer than expected to prepare. Upon preparation, I checked the delivery details. The address marked Kolpolok Residential Area, but the map showed the drop of location at Khulshi.

I was confused and phoned the customer to confirm. Rather than be understood, I was met with a shout. He accused me of the delay and shouted at me. I tried to explain patiently,
“Sir, I don’t prepare the food—I just deliver it.”

He snapped again despite this, “I’ve written Kolpolok Residential Area, why are you asking again?”

His tone was abrupt, but I did not choose pride over patience. “Fine,” I told him, “I will deliver it to your residence within 30–45 minutes.” I hung up and departed.

The map showed 8 kilometers to Kolpolok. It was far, and already dark clouds were gathering above. But I toughed it out, pedaling at 28 km/h, to complete the delivery.

When I eventually reached the destination, I found another problem—no building name was said. I attempted to call him again, yet the first call read, “The user is busy.” Some more calls later, his phone was off.

It began to rain, soaking me from head to toe as I stood there holding the unpaid order. Moments like these test not only strength but also patience to the fullest. Eventually, the office called me, instructing me to take the food back to the vendor.

So, I went back. Another 8 km ride in the rain, returning, tired but still upright. When I returned the order, a vendor’s crew member glared at me in amazement.
“Brother, Kolpolok Residential Area is too far—how did you end up riding there in this rain?”

I simply smiled, though inwardly, I was saddled with the agony of the wasted effort.

That day ended on a strange balance: one customer had shown me generosity and compassion, and the other had tested my patience and stamina. Both will stay with me, as reminders on the road.

For each day on the cycle is not so much about the transport of food—it’s about the transport through moments, through people, through rain, and through grit.