#also at some point we turned off doordash and just stopped answering the phone

[125storejuice]

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[collecting-stories]

She’s Kinda Hot - Sarah Cameron

Request: omg i really wish i could write but, can you do one with sarah and kind of like kie reader(rich but hang out with the pogues)where they are enemies and are stuck together for a project and the reader keeps annoying sarah to make her mad and the reader tells sarah she’s hot when she’s mad and then they end up getting together or something. sorry this is really long this is also my first time requesting so i’m kinda new lo

A/N: I really freaking love Sarah Cameron. That is all. Enjoy the fic. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

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Sarah was pretty sure that there was one of those personal rain clouds hanging directly over her head as she sat in math class with you. Who even assigned school projects in math class? Wasn’t that kind of thing reserved for english or science? But no, her math teacher...your math teacher...decided that a project to highlight Women in Math was a brilliant idea for Women’s History Month and, in an even greater stroke of genius, she stuck Sarah and you together as partners. It was all your fault really, that was all Sarah kept thinking as she stared across the classroom at the side of your head. That if you hadn’t walked into class late, in the middle of assignments, Sarah would’ve ended up with the next person alphabetically behind Cameron. Instead, she was stuck with you. 

“Why don’t we just split the assignment into parts and then put it together at the end?” Sarah suggested, after the bell rang and she managed to chase you down the hall of the kook academy to your locker.  

“Why not just work together?” You replied, shrugging a shoulder as if it shouldn’t be the worst thing that could ever happen to Sarah to be paired together for the project.

“I’d rather not.”

“Cause you broke up with me-”  

Sarah hushed you immediately, covering your mouth with her hand and looking back and forth down the crowded hallway. “You know what happened!”  

You pushed Sarah’s hand away and rolled your eyes, “well too bad princess, I need this grade so you’re gonna have to deal with seeing me.” You said, “everyday. After school.”  

“That’s bullshit,” Sarah snapped, following after you when you shut your locker and started down the hallway to your next class, “you do not need that fucking grade! You’re at like, the top of the class.”  

“Are you the teacher?” you asked, looking back at her. “Don’t worry Sarah, I promise I’ll stay six feet away and I won’t try to tempt you. Wouldn’t want anyone to find out you’re into girls.” You said, whispering the last part so only she could hear it.  

Sarah stopped in her tracks, watching you walk the rest of the way to your class. She wanted to scream after you, that wasn’t the reason. That wasn’t why she’d totally annexed you from her life. It wasn’t just that she knew this project was going to get her in deep shit, it was that she was one hundred percent positive that she would not be able to work with you without letting her feelings get the better of her.  

It wasn’t like the kook academy was a big place, there wasn’t exactly room to avoid you completely, but Sarah had done a pretty decent job so far. Even when the two of you crossed paths in class, and it happened more than Sarah would’ve preferred, she managed to keep herself away from you. At least until now, she was stuck with you as her partner for some ridiculous math project. She’d been banking on you wanting as little to do with her as she tried to have with you but instead you seemed totally fine. Unbothered by everything that went down between the two of you.  

She thought about asking Kiara what she would do but Sarah could already hear her best friend telling her that she wasn’t going to take sides. Kiara was friends with both of you and the most advice she would ever offer was “I don’t get what happened between you two anyway”.  

No, asking Kiara wouldn’t work. Sarah would have to resign herself to this project. She could this. It was just a three-week project. She could survive three weeks with you.  

“Hey, if I get lunch, what’d’ya want?” You asked, hanging your head off of Sarah’s bed and holding your phone out so you could tap through your doordash app.  

Sarah wanted to scream, it was still half-way through the first week and you had been to her house three times in as many days, spending your after-school hours driving her crazy. She was pretty sure that you were doing this on purpose.  

“It’s almost 5:30,” Sarah replied, not looking up from her laptop, “I think lunch is over.”

“Dinner then.” You said.  

“No. I don’t want dinner.” She snapped, “and I don’t want lunch or whatever else...I just want to finish this project.”

“We’ve got like, two weeks left Sarah,” you pointed out, rolling over onto your stomach and looking at her across the room, “just chill out.”  

You knew you were pushing Sarah’s buttons but you couldn’t help it. When things between the two of you had gone bad, when she’d told you that it was over and, worse than that, it was a mistake, you had been heartbroken. There wasn’t a better word for it. You hated how upset you’d been after Sarah broke it off with you but when things settled, you couldn’t deny that there was still something there. Little looks, fleeting in the hallway, moments you caught her staring and you knew she caught you too. It felt like boiling tension, the same way it had before, when you’d gotten together.  

“Chill out?” She huffed, “you’ve been at my house all week driving me fucking nuts and now you tell me to ‘chill out’. No, you need to help me with this fucking project!”  

You sat up on the bed, unable to contain the smile as you looked over at Sarah, “god, I totally forgot how insanely hot you are when you’re pissed off.”  

Sarah tossed her pencil across the room at you, “will you knock it off. You always pull this shit with me.”

“What shit?” You almost laughed, “you’re the one who told me that dating was an ‘accident’ and you were ‘confused about your feelings’. What am I doing, exactly, to pull shit with you? If anything, Sarah, you leading me on was pretty much exactly that.”  

“I wasn’t leading you on.” She groaned, flicking her hair over her shoulder the way she always did when she was pissed with something someone said to her. “What was I supposed to do anyway?” She said, voice dropping lower so no one would hear her. You might’ve been in her closed bedroom but if there was one thing you’d learned about Tanny Hill it was that someone was always listening. “Do you know what my family would do if they found out?”

“Found out that you were dating...basically a pogue? Or dating a girl?” You deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at her in question. You knew what the answer was. Sarah had been trying to live up to every expectation that Ward set for her from the moment she was born. She was always trying to make up for Rafe or Wheezie doing something to upset him by making sure she never did. And while other people dating whoever they wanted was totally fine with him, his favorite daughter, his pride and joy, dating a girl...maybe if it’d been Wheezie a few years down the line. But not Sarah, who was supposed to date a rich kook and go to UNC and marry the same rich kook and they could have a couple kids and buy a big house near his. He’d been planning it all out for her since before she was born and you had thrown a wrench in that plan.  

“It’s a delicate subject.”

“No,” you laughed and shook your head, “your dad’s a total homophobe. What’s he got against two super-hot girls dating each other?”

“When one of them is his daughter, I don’t think it’s at the top of his approved list.” She replied. “We should be working on this project anyway...I want a good grade and so do you.”

“Sarah-”

“No. Cause you’ll say something that you know I wanna hear and then you’ll do the stupid slow walk over to my chair and put your hands on the arm rests and I’ll be totally defenseless and then I’ll do something I totally regret...like kissing you.” Sarah said, “or letting you kiss me.”

“You’d totally regret it if we kissed?” You asked. “Positive?”

“Yes I’m positive.”

“We could test it out? Just to make sure?”

“No.”  

You shrugged, grabbing your math text off the bed and setting it on your lap again, “okay, I guess we should get back to work then.”

“What?” Sarah almost sounded shocked and really she shouldn’t have been. She should’ve known when the teacher put the two of you together for the project that this was exactly where she would end up at some point within the three weeks. Though really, she’d held out a lot longer than she ever thought she would be able to. “That’s it? You’re just going back to the project?”

“You said that’s what you wanted to do.”

She groaned and tugged at the roots of her hair for a second before looking at you, “you are the most frustrating, annoying, dense person in the entire world and I cannot believe that we-”

While she reamed you out, you had put your book aside and gotten up, going over to her and doing exactly what she said you would. You put your hands on the armrests of her desk chair and you leaned in and kissed her mid-sentence. “Is that what I was supposed to do?” You asked, pulling away just enough to see her face.  

Sarah wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you toward her and forcing you to stabilize yourself with a knee on the side of her leg, practically sitting on her lap. “Something like that.” She finally said, “though I would’ve appreciated a little warning.”

“Oh, sorry, you seemed stressed,” you replied, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to help you relax.”

“Is stressed the word?” She joked, tension melting as she brushed her nose against yours. She leaned forward so your foreheads were touching, her eyelashes just ghosting a touch on your cheeks when she closed her eyes for a split second.  

“Extremely hot? Sexy...a major turn on.” You joked, kissing her again. “God, imagine if you’d been paired with like...Topper for this? You’d be kissing him right now.”

“Stop trying to ruin the moment and kiss me.” Sarah laughed.

[devil-in-those-eyes]

Flutters-Ben Hardy

It’s here, as promised! Hope you guys enjoy!

--

           “Y/N, just tell me why.” Ben begged you, tears filling his eyes.

           “It’s for the best,” you answered, your voice hoarse because it felt like a rock the size of Africa was in your throat. You chin quivered as you shoved your suitcase and carryon into the back of the taxi, just outside of Ben’s apartment complex.

           “For who’s best?” he asked and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to keep yourself calm. Ben stood behind you in only sweats and the white t-shirt he had slept in, his hair was a mess and he still had sleep in his features because he woke up to you packing and getting ready to leave four days early. When you started talking breakup he rushed out of bed, stumbling over the clothes from the night prior.

           “Ben,” you begged, willing him to just take your words but he didn’t.

           He wrapped his hand around your arm, whirling you around to face him and pulling until your chest was against his. The tears were no longer balancing on the rim of his eyes but were now rushing down his cheeks. “Certainly not the best for me.”

           “Ben, please!” you exclaimed, pushing your hands into his chest. “Just… just let me go, Ben. You have to let me go.”

           “Just tell me why,” he said, sadness dripping in his words and making your heart beat wildly in your chest. This was hurting you as well, it was killing you to do this but it had to be done and one day he’d understand it. Ben’s eyes searched your eyes before his hand slid up your neck and cradled your cheek, “Sweetheart.” He attempted a smile, “just come back inside and we can talk. You can tell me what’s going on inside.”

           Your eyes nearly fluttered shut at his soft murmured words, the feel of his warm hand against your cheek, but if you went inside then this would all go backwards and you had to do this. You needed to walk away. This wasn’t a problem Ben could fix over tea and coffee. Your chin quivered as you stared up into his beautiful eyes. You realized this would probably be the last time you ever saw him, so you took everything in. From his soft lips, to his button nose and bright eyes. The blonde curls at the top of his head. The way his chest felt underneath your palms, the way his heart was beating so hard and in total fear of your next words and movements.

           “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “We’re at different places and I can’t do this anymore.”

           “Sweetheart,” Ben started but you gave one last shove and he let you go. You closed the trunk of the taxi and walked to the open door, “Y/N, please!”

           You shut the door and flicked the lock down.

           “Sure you want to go, Miss?” the taxi driver asked.

           “Yes, now.” You forced yourself to say and he started driving down the street, heading straight for Heathrow, where you would catch your one way back to New York.

           You kept your eyes forward because if you looked back you knew you would force the driver to turn back around. Because you knew that if you looked back at Ben, then it was game over. You breathed deeply and wiped at the tears on your cheeks, once you hit the highway you finally settled back into the seat. Your hands collapsing onto your stomach, giving a protective rub over the reason why you left Ben.

           He wasn’t ready for a baby. Your relationship had only been eight months long, it was a pure and beautiful eight months, but one simple mistake and it was all ruined. The words Ben spoke to his mother stuck inside your head and played round and round like a stupid catchy song by Ariana Grande.

           We’re not ready mum. It’s too soon for marriage and babies. My career is taking off and it would only make things harder… Maybe in five years.

           But five years was happening now and you wouldn’t put Ben through being a father if he didn’t want to be. What were the chances of you two staying together after having a baby so soon in your relationship? Slim to none.

--

           “How you doing, kid?” Joe asked through the phone after you got into your townhome in suburban New York.

           “Kid? Joey, you’re only seven years older than me.” You chuckled, dropping your keys into the glass bowl, putting your purse onto the small table beside the door. You slipped off your shoes and sighed happily because your feet remained swollen and had been for freaking months.

           Joe chuckled softly, “How was the doctors visit then, Y/N?”

           “Good,” you smiled, traveling into your kitchen to grab a drink. It was a cloudy late morning and you knew that a storm was headed for your little townhouse so you couldn’t be more excited to sit inside and watch some TV on your day off after your doctors visit. Just to curl up with your favorite blanket on your plush couch, numbing your mind and hopefully taking the pressure off of your feet.

           “Yeah?” You could almost hear your best friend of twenty years smiling through the phone, “How’s the baby? I wanna know about my nephew.”

           “Excuse me,” you began to argue, “could be a niece, you jerk.”

           “Okay, then how is my niece-possibly nephew doing?” he laughed as you settled on the couch, propping your feet up and looking down. Your belly was growing daily and you were becoming one of those pregnant women that was all belly. You found yourself eating all the damn time and peeing was becoming more of an hourly occurrence and lately you could feel odd flutters inside your stomach, almost like butterflies but a little heavier and more real.

           You ran your fingers over your bump and smiled, “Good, the doctor is happy with the way things are going. He-she now has fingers and toes and is also the size of a banana.”

           “Oh, my god,” Joe cooed and your cheeks burned with a happy grin. It had taken a lot for Joe to be okay with your recent decisions, but he never once looked at your baby as a mistake, instead when he found out you were pregnant he was utterly ecstatic. As much as Joe loved hearing all of this, you knew he wished you would share these moments with the father of your baby and remembering that made your heart sink.

           “I can’t believe you only have four more months,” Joe breathed out before mumbling, “I need to start buying shit.”

           You laughed, “No, no more presents.”

           “Aw, come on, Y/N. What’s the fun in being the cool uncle if I can’t spoil the shit out of this kid?” Joe whined and you rolled your eyes. The man was in his thirties and still acted like a child. You were seven years younger than Joe, but sometimes you definitely considered yourself the more mature one. “Listen, I’ll call you back, kid. Give your belly some rubs for me.”

           “Bye, Joey.” You laughed and hung up the phone, turning on your TV and curling up into your couch, immediately getting settled while absentmindedly rubbing your belly, something you found yourself doing more and more as time went on.

           You couldn’t help but be excited to be a mom, to welcome this baby into the world with a warm hug. Sure, you were beyond nervous to be a single mom but you had more than enough people around you to help make it work. You would make this work, for this baby. Remembering that you were doing this on your own made you think about Ben and your stupid hormones made tears slip into your eyes. You hadn’t seen him since you left London three months ago, nor have you spoken to him. He tried calling and speaking through Joe, but you didn’t answer and eventually it all stopped.

           He still loves you, Y/N. Joe would whisper to you during your worst nights. You should tell him.

           I cant ruin his life. We barely know each other.

           That’s a load of shit.

           Promise me, Joe. Swear on my life you wont tell him.

           ….. I swear.

--

           The storm outside had been raging on for the last three hours and the weather people said it wouldn’t let up until the early morning hours. Rain drops fell harshly onto your roof, making it sound like bullets dropping onto your ceilings, and when the thunder followed quickly after the lightening, it sounded like it was going to crack open your home. You hadn’t really moved from your position on the couch, other than to grab food and pee. You, at one point, grabbed all the snacks from your pantry and laid them out in your lap, your fingers picking what they wanted, bouncing from chips to apples dipped in honey and peanut butter. Your cravings were off the fucking wall and you didn’t even want to admit what you were craving.

           When the storm originally started, your mom called and asked if she could come the spend the night with you but you denied it because you just wanted to enjoy the quiet of your home while the storm raged on. Her protectiveness hit an all new level when you told her you were expecting, and as much as you loved her willingness to be there and sit with you while you dipped your Cheetos in strawberry yogurt you just wanted time alone.

           During your current marathon of Very Cavallari your phone began ringing. You picked it up while balancing the remote on your belly and saw it was Joe again. You sighed and picked it up, “Did mom beg you to call and check up on me? Joe, I swear to god, I am fine.”

           “Y/N,” Joe stated. The way he said your name, the way it rolled off of his tongue stopped the chip from going into your mouth. It was his serious tone, it was his something is wrong and I need you to listen very carefully. It was his tone he used when he stopped being your best friend and more along the lines of that protective older brother mood he sometimes got into.

           “What’s happened?” you asked, pausing the show and sitting up a bit more. “What’s wrong, is your mom okay? Is.. is Mary okay?”

           “Y/N, you have to promise not to hate me.” Joe replied, not fully giving you the answer you were looking for.

           “What?” you asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

           “Ben knows, Y/N.” Joe blurted out, almost cutting you off. The blood drained from your face as Joe repeated himself, “Ben knows.”

           “Joe, what the hell did you do?” you exclaimed into the phone as your doorbell rang, the Doordash guy finally showing up with your Chick-Fil-A order, one where you ordered everything off of the menu.

           “It.. It, I don’t even know!” Joe exclaimed as you got up. “I hung up the phone with you earlier and he heard me tell you to rub your belly. He asked who was pregnant and he nearly throttled me into telling him! Y/N, I was scared shitless of him.”

           “So you fucking tell him?” You exclaimed as you searched through your purse to grab you wallet.

           “Okay, so that’s not actually the worst part,” Joe grimaced as you balanced the phone between your ear and shoulder, ripping your front door open.

           Your heart plummeted into your stomach and suddenly all those cravings you gave in to today swirled around in your stomach because a blonde, green eyed man was staring at you. The blood was drained from his face as he took in your leggings and sweatshirt, immediately zeroing in on your swollen stomach.

           His lips quivered, “You’re pregnant?”

           “Oh, fuck. Yeah, he jumped on the first flight out of LAX, by the way.” Joe grumbled over the phone, after hearing Ben.

           “I hate you.” You said to Joe and hung up.

           Ben tried again, this time looking into your eyes. “You’re pregnant, with my child.”

           Where would you even start? “Ben, I…”

           “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” He yelled, suddenly finding his voice.

           “Ben, maybe you should…”

           “Leave?” he finished and shook his head, “I’m not going anywhere, in fact I’m going to go grab my bags because we have a lot of talking to do.”

           No! “Ben!” you exclaimed as he ran back out into the rain, immediately getting drenched as he rushed back to his rental car. You’re unsure of how he managed that because he wasn’t even a dual citizen, let alone had his license, but either way you saw him lift up his trunk and you found yourself running towards him.

           The heavy rain covered you from head to toe by the time you reached Ben and lightening filled the dark sky, thunder crackling above your heads. “Ben, stop, I don’t want to do this with you!” you yelled through the rain.

           “What?” he asked, “Admit that you ran away from me, or tell me how you decided to kick me out of our baby’s life without even telling me you were pregnant!”

           “You don’t even want a child!” you screamed, already feeling cold to your bones through the downpour.

           “I never said that!” he yelled back, no longer fussing around with his luggage as he faced you. He looked broken as his hair stuck to his forehead, dark circles under his eyes with pale cheeks. He honestly looked like the last three months had been hell for him and the sudden news just added ten years to his pretty baby boy face.

           “You mom asked you, and your answer was crystal clear, Ben.”

           Ben went silent as he thought back three, almost now four, months ago. When he remembered the conversation that you overheard, he hung his hands on his hips and chewed on the inside of his mouth, trying to think of his next move. You knew you had him. You were fully aware that you decision to leave was rash and harsh and it broke two hearts in the process, but you would never bring a baby into the world, only for it to be unwanted to looked at as a mistake. Ben would one day be an amazing father, but his comments to his mom made it crystal clear that kids weren’t in yours and Ben’s new future.

           “Love, you’re sopping wet, let’s get you inside before you get sick. Before something happens to the baby.” Ben faltered, stepping towards you and offering his hand to you.

           You stepped back and placed a protective hand over your belly. You shook your head as your bottom lip quivered, a telltale sign you were about to start crying. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

           “Y/N, please,” he begged, his face full of desperation. There was a huge chance you would get sick, and it would only put more stress on your baby, but there was no way you were letting him in.

           “I will not let my baby come into this world unloved.” You stated as the tears finally rolled down your face and mixed with the pelts of rain. “I refuse to let this baby grow up in a home filled with anything less than love and adoration.”

           “I do love this baby!” Ben shouted, not keeping a hold on his cool like you did.

           “You didn’t even know until six hours ago.” You argued almost instantly.

           “Because you didn’t tell me!” Ben pulled back on the shouting and turned his face to the sky. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back only for it to fall to his face again. He looked back at you again, this time with his own tears in his eyes. He looked at your small bump, with your hands still trying to cover it, and you watched as he stared at it with the same look in his eyes that he used to get when he looked at you. A look he gave you the second you pulled open the front door and he saw you standing there.

           He looked back up at you. You felt a soft flutter in the pit of your stomach and realized it was your baby. Yours and Ben’s perfect baby. Ben smiled tenderly and spoke lowly underneath the thunder and lightening, “Y/N, my love for our baby doesn’t have to evolve. I don’t have to know the colors of the nursery, or which pram you’ve already picked out… Or which names you’ve picked out,” he gave you a teasing smile, one that made your heart flutter, “because I already know you had names picked out the day after you found out you were pregnant.”

           You felt like you were suffocating under his eyes, so your hand touched your chest.

           “The second I found out you were having my child, I knew I was in love because its you. You are the only person I see a future with, the only woman I dream about marrying. I’ve been spending the last three months dreaming about you and constantly thinking about you.” He sucked on his lower lip before smirking, “Sweetheart, you can fly halfway across the world to hide from me, but I’ll follow you anywhere. I’m never letting you go and I’m never leaving our baby.”

           Oh, fuck me. You thought. You still loved this man and the fact that he found out you were pregnant and flew hundreds of miles to see you, only instantly after being told, showed you that you two could make it work. Your love for each other was all consuming, passionate but so fucking real.

           “Ben, I,”

           You didn’t get to say another word because he gripped your hand and tugged you to him. Hard enough to make you stumble into his chest, but soft enough that it didn’t hurt the baby. He grinned down at you before pressing his lips to yours. You melted into him and let his mouth assault yours in the most delicious way.

           With a small nip at your bottom lip, he pulled away and stared down at you. You smiled, “I love you.”

           “Fuck,” he groaned, “I love you so damn much.”

           The rain finally got to you and a violent shiver raced through your body, making your muscles spasm and twitch against him. He frowned, “Let’s get you inside. Take a hot bath to warm you up.”

           You wiggled your eyebrows, “Take one with me?”

           He smirked and tugged your hair at the back of your head, causing dark swirls of pleasure to form between your legs, before pressing a heavy kiss to your mouth. “The answer to that is always yes.” He grumbled before grabbing his suitcase.

           Maybe you didn’t hate Joe thaaat much.

[shirlleycoyle]

Gig Workers Have Nowhere to Pee

On Wednesday, Christian Perea, an Uber and Lyft driver, posted photos of Vivi’s Cafe, a restaurant in Redwood City, California that refuses to allow Uber Eats and DoorDash delivery drivers to use its bathrooms. In the tweet, Perea said: “This is how many restaurants treat gig-workers for companies like Uber Eats and DoorDash as subhumans"

The owner of Vivi’s Cafe did not respond to Motherboard’s request for comment but an employee at the restaurant defended the sign, saying over the phone “Our owner put up the sign and we let everyone use the bathroom, but sometimes drivers don’t flush or take too long.”

Motherboard spoke to delivery drivers who work on Uber Eats, Postmates, Grubhub, DoorDash, and Instacart, and found that not having access to a bathroom while picking up and delivering food for hours is a common problem in many areas of the country. Drivers told us that often restaurants will post signs or tell drivers that bathrooms are reserved for customers only, forcing them to use the bathroom outside or pee in cups in their cars. As middlemen who shuttle food between businesses and customers, gig workers who deliver food and groceries often find themselves occupying a marginalized position. Neither customer nor employee, gig workers are denied the amenities typically offered to both. Federal laws requires that employees provide a least one bathroom for roughly every 15 employees, but this access does not extend to gig workers who are independent contractors.

‘There are several restaurants in San Francisco that I’ve asked to use the bathroom and they’ve said ‘no,’” Mostafa Maklad, who works for UberEats, GrubHub, Postmates, and DoorDash in San Francisco, told Motherboard. “It’s very frustrating when you’re working and have no way to use the bathroom because there just aren’t public bathrooms in this city. Usually, I just try to find one at the next restaurant.”

One gig worker on UberEats and DoorDash who asked to remain anonymous to talk about an embarrassing topic, told Motherboard that barring gig workers from entering restaurant bathrooms is common practice in Chicago. “It’s not unusual. One in five or six restaurants I go into have a sign like that,” he said. And while some restaurants post blatant signs meant to keep out gig workers, most employ more tactful strategies, simply stating that bathrooms are reserved for customers only, he said.

“It’s inconvenient and not rare that bathrooms are reserved for customers,” he said. “We’re spending more money at restaurants than a customer would spend on the same order…and many of us would just like to wash our hands when we pick up food.”

That same worker said sometimes 12-hour shifts go by where he isn’t able to easily access a bathroom. “I always respect the signs, but I’m not ashamed to pull over and pee behind a building. And I’m not shy—if someone were to ask, I’d tell them why. I also keep a spare cup in the car just in case.”

"I’m not ashamed to pull over and pee behind a building. And I’m not shy—if someone were to ask, I’d tell them why. I also keep a spare cup in the car just in case.”

Tiffany, who picks and packs groceries for the app Instacart and preferred to use her first name only, says she’s been told by Safeway and Quality Food Centers (a subsidiary of Kroger’s) in the Seattle area that she cannot use their restrooms. “It’s decently hard to find a restroom in Seattle because they are either 1) locked and monitored so I get told ‘no’ when I ask for a code or 2) they don’t have one at all,” she wrote to Motherboard on Facebook.

Their reasoning, she says, is that she’s not a real customer. “It’s a little messed up that they’re not letting people use restrooms. I’m a customer spending time and money in your store.” After she filed a complaint with the Safeway’s location that wouldn’t let her use the restroom, Tiffany says a manager gave her access.

“The restrooms in our facilities are accessible to the public, including gig workers. This isolated incident where a patron was denied access to a locked restroom is not consistent with our store policies,” a spokesperson for Safeway said.

Quality Food Centers did not respond to Motherboard’s request for comment, but an employee who answered the phone at a downtown Seattle location told Motherboard that Quality Food Centers in the area have a policy of not allowing customers to use their restrooms. He wasn’t sure how this policy applies to gig workers.

Many drivers echo these sentiments in online forums. They say they’re forced to make pit stops at parks, gas stations or McDonald’s. Sometimes they ask customers if they can relieve themselves inside their homes. The topic of where and how to pee is a regular subject on the r/UberDrivers subreddit, where one driver noted that a “Peetainer” was “the best purchase I made all last year.” Other threads ask “how many drivers use a piss bottle?” 32-ounce Gatorade bottles seem to be the consensus best pee bottle among drivers.

Late last year, when the actress Gabrielle Union tweeted about an Uber driver who spent 15 minutes in the bathroom at her Los Angeles house, Uber responded saying, “That definitely should not be happening.”

Motherboard reached out to Uber, DoorDash, Grubhub, Seamless, and Instacart for comment about specific policies regarding bathroom use. Uber and DoorDash said they do not have any specific rules about bathroom access. Grubhub, Seamless, and Instacart did not respond. Motherboard reviewed their community guidelines and found nothing on the subject of bathroom access.

When asked, an Uber Eats spokesperson pointed to the community guidelines and quoted: "Restaurants should provide a safe area for order pickups that make delivery people feel welcome."

“Our whole algorithm—our point is to have the driver be in the restaurant for as little as possible. They make more money if they do more deliveries in less time,” a DoorDash spokesperson told Motherboard. “It’s not our call, it’s not our establishment. It’s kind of like an Uber driver asking you to use your restroom after dropping you off.”

This sort of discrimination against gig workers isn't limited to just delivery apps, but also ride-hailing apps. Motherboard reported last year that some Uber Greenlight Hubs segregated bathrooms by worker classification; at one facility, Uber drivers were directed to Port-a-Potties without running water and scolded for using employee designated ones.

Take New York City’s airports, for example, where for years drivers did not have access to bathrooms. While ride-hail drivers waited in an isolated parking lot for their turn in the queue, they were forced to urinate in bottles and "turn a patch of foliage into their own oversized litter box” for fear of missing a passenger.

In New York City, there are over 120,000 ride-hail app drivers and only 32 designated “relief stands."

"When we launched our restroom campaign in late 2016, there wasn't even a port-a-potty for ride-hail drivers at JFK,” Moira Muntz, spokesperson for the Independent Drivers Guild, a New York City-based labor group for app-based drivers, told Motherboard. “After years of research and conference calls, we finally won running water restrooms at the airports. This fall, the Port Authority put in place running water restroom trailers at all three airports and approved plans to build permanent restroom facilities."

New York City itself, however, is not doing much better. There are over 120,000 ride-hail app drivers (also known as for-hire-vehicle drivers or FHVs) and only 32 designated “relief stands” for FHVs to park for an hour and “take care of personal needs”—19 are in Manhattan, where the vast majority of all drivers operate.

"These are just places to park—in most cases there is no nearby public restroom. Also, many of these 'relief stands' are only designated for FHV use overnight or after businesses are closed. Many of them are for commercial deliveries only during the day,” Muntz said. “New York City desperately needs more public restrooms."

Are you a gig worker with a story to share about your working conditions? We'd love to hear from you. You can contact Edward at edward.ongweso@vice.com or on Signal 413-225-2938, or Lauren at lauren.gurley@vice.com or on Signal 201-897-2109.

There’s a reason that gig workers consistently have difficulty getting bathroom access whether its in restaurants, grocery stores, airports, or at city-designated rest stops—and why gig employers are in no rush to do anything about it. Gig workers are seen, with some classist disregard, as a problem to be solved. For these companies, the problem is how to minimize labor costs in pursuit of profits; for cities and states, the problem is how to classify workers and their rights/responsibilities; and for everyone else, the problem is that they do what everyone else does (use the bathroom, contribute to traffic, etc.).

But if you’re the gig worker and the problem is you want to be treated with some dignity, perhaps take a bathroom break between jobs as you struggle to make ends meet…well, tough shit!

Gig Workers Have Nowhere to Pee syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/