Arts and Design

'Customers tell us to keep the change': Italy's delivery drivers on lockdown – photo essay


On a locked-down Saturday night, Filippo Venturi came down the stairs of his apartment block in Forlì, in the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy, to collect his pizza delivery. But before the rider left, he asked something they probably weren’t expecting: “Can I take your picture?”

Alessia, 20. Tortellini and passatelli ordered from “La Sosta” restaurant, 19 March



Venturi, 39, began studying photography 11 years ago, and has since documented sport, theatre events and social phenomena. Since the outbreak of Covid-19, he has been photographing delivery riders. Speaking down the phone from his home, where he, his partner and their son have been quarantined for two weeks, he tells me how he started to worry about the riders, coming into contact with stranger after stranger, while providing an essential service to those who can afford to self-isolate. As he started ordering more deliveries, he asked each rider – from a safe distance – about their lives under coronavirus.

Eleonora, 29d. Hand sanitiser gel from the Demetra herbal medicine shop, 20 March 2020



Most told him they weren’t worried, because they take precautions, as do customers. But 23-year-old Andrea, delivering sushi, wasn’t so sure. “I’m not calm,” he told Venturi. “Even if I take all the precautions, people tend to touch you, to take risks – they assume neither of you are infected. But I could be, or they could be. How do I know that they’re not in quarantine?”

Andrea, 23 years old. Sushi ordered from the MeloSushi restaurant, 16 March



Venturi tells me he was struck by both the lack of consideration given to riders’ health, and their lack of choice when it came to doing the job. Davide, 25, was laid off when the restaurant he worked for closed down; his second job as a personal trainer has also been terminated. Delivering burgers to make ends meet, Davide hasn’t been given a mask or gloves. “If they want them, they have to buy them themselves,” Venturi says. “Before the crisis, they cost one or two euros each – now they cost €20 or €30. And it’s not as if they can wear them for days and days.”

Davide, 25 years old. Welldone burger bar, Cesena, 17 March



  • Davide, 25, Welldone burger bar, Cesena.

Naturally, the lockdown made some interviews difficult. While most people were happy to talk, Venturi says, a driver called Antonio would only tell him, “I work in black.” Why? “I think it was his way of explaining that he couldn’t tell me anything else. The police roam the streets, making sure anyone who is out has a valid reason. I think he was worried that being photographed and interviewed wasn’t a good enough reason.” Delivery riders have witnessed the multiple ways people deal with their anxieties about contagion.

Antonio, 15 March. “I work in black.”



Loris, 65. Food ordered from Italian rotisserie La Baita del Buongustaio, Forlì, 18 March



  • Left: Antonio, Forlì. Right: Loris, 65, La Baita del Buongustaio.

Simone, 32. Breakfast ordered from coffee bar Q Corner, 18 March



Simone, 32, brought Venturi breakfast from a nearby coffee bar. The venue had always delivered pizza in the evening, but expanded their hours to deliver from 9am to 10pm. He reported that one customer laid out kitchen towels on the floor outside the door, and asked him to place the bag on top. “Perhaps that’s a little excessive,” Venturi says, “but taking it from his hand would mean standing closer than a metre.” Simone wears a mask and always keeps a metre away from a customer, so he’s not very worried. His main fear is that the situation could get worse. “I fear that the government might also consider stopping home deliveries,” he says.

Lucian, 19. Thai dish ordered from the Kinkhao restaurant



An unexpected upside was shared by 19-year-old Lucian. Generally, people do not tip in Italy; now, in an effort to avoid touching notes and coins, customers are telling him to keep the change.

“So he’s making more money, and that’s better for him, but the reason is sad,” Venturi says. “They’re not being generous – they’re afraid of him.”

At the time of writing, the mortality rate for Covid-19 in Italy is the highest in the world, in part because the population is older. But Venturi is concerned that many younger people don’t seem to grasp that they, too, are potentially at risk.

Joel, 19. FoodStation rider



Martina, 30. Ice-cream ordered from the Gelateria Crem Caramel, 15 March



  • Left: Joel, 19, FoodStation rider. Right: Martina, 30, Gelateria Crem Caramel.

Alessandro, 21. Cheesecake ordered from the Red Velvet bakery, 18 March



Alessandro, 21, told Venturi: “I’m calm when I work. I’m more worried about my band. We have an album coming out and we’re supposed to do a European tour in the late summer. I worry that everything will be cancelled.”

Federico, 28. Beer ordered from the Bar Barbeer



Federico, 23. Pizza ordered from PizzaLab



  • Left: Federico, 28, Barbeer. Right: Federico, 23, PizzaLab.

The photographer says a lot of older people are frustratingly complacent, too: “They often think they’re safe if they don’t have cardiac or respiratory problems.”

Though the job lacks the hero status afforded health workers and firefighters, Venturi points out that delivery riders have also risked their health so that others can stay safe and fed. Their lives might be tough or precarious in normal circumstances; currently, they are even more so. “They bring food to people who are staying safe in their homes, but that puts them at greater risk. And they in turn risk taking it home and passing it on to family.” Why shouldn’t they keep the change?

Jacopo, 25. Sushi and ravioli ordered from College Sushi takeaway





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