We are promised groceries at our doorstep and have forgotten the joy of shopping.
WE ARE promised groceries at our doorstep in under an hour. Mr D delivers meals without a single pot stirred in the kitchen. Carwash stations sprout across our neighbourhoods. Fewer people visit pharmacies; medicines now arrive at home. Domestic helpers clean houses, walk the dogs, pack school bags, and supervise homework. Even the daily journey of childhood is subcontracted.
The school run - once a parent’s chance to listen, laugh, and linger with their child - is now outsourced to drivers who know the route but not the child’s heart, let alone name.
On the surface, it parades as progress. And in certain ways, it is. But beneath the glitter of convenience lies a darker truth: we are not merely outsourcing labour; we are outsourcing life itself.
Some blame must be apportioned to Covid-19. The pandemic didn’t invent outsourcing, but it entrenched it. Groceries became lifelines, arriving at our doors because stepping into a store felt dangerous. Meals migrated to apps, kitchens fell silent, and the act of cooking together was replaced by sterile efficiency.
