The Third Place in Your Phone: The Spectre of Mobile Ordering
By: Shaye Frenkel, Contributor
A spectre is haunting Oberlin Campus– the spectre of mobile ordering. When I first encountered this system, it felt like an optional, and sometimes impractical alternative to waiting in long lines at Azariah’s or Umami. I was ardent about not using it, as I would always look at the orders left there on the counter with a little receipt stuck to them, waiting impatiently for someone to pick them up, and think to myself “wow who would ever rely on a faulty system like this to get their food or drink instead of just coming here themselves”. I never trusted the little time estimation they gave, either. How could they predict how long it would take? Apparently Oberlin College, or whomever is in charge of these things, disagreed with my concerns, because at the beginning of this semester, mobile ordering became the norm at the dining hall alternatives on campus.
It all started with the Rat. What was once a laidback spot to hangout in cramped wooden booths eating greasy, fried food with your friends was soon stripped of its atmosphere over the course of last year. First, the seating was taken from us. No longer could you grab Fourth Meal and enjoy the ambience of students laughing and talking amongst each other. The endless refills of soft drinks made it hard to leave, but once 11:30 rolled around, clean-up began and Wilder slowly went to sleep for the night. But that is no more. I remember having to explain to some first years that yes in fact you used to be able to eat there too. And then, it was announced that the little kiosk with the kinda sticky screen that broke all the time wouldn’t be used anymore, instead being replaced solely by mobile ordering. I wasn’t against this. After all, you couldn’t sit inside anymore, so it didn’t make a huge difference. But little did I know, this would set a scary precedent for the future.
Next was Azariah’s. This one cut deep. Coffee shops are basically the epitome of a third place. And for those of you who perhaps haven’t come across this term on tiktok or twitter recently, third places are a sort of alternative for people to hang out that isn’t home or work/school. It’s a middle ground. A safe, usually free environment to talk with friends, do work, read, or just exist. We spend a lot of time in class or our dorms on campus, so it's always a reprieve when we can be somewhere else. Another huge component of Azzie’s is the interactions we all have with the people working there. As the only dining option staffed almost entirely by students, it really feels like a place for students, by students. That brief conversation you have with the person working as they ask you what you would like to order, and you proceed to blunder your way through whatever coffee or tea concoction you’ve been craving, gives a sense of human connection that you can’t get through a phone screen. So when I heard that Azzie’s would be switching over exclusively to mobile orders, I began to wonder how fundamentally this would change how we live as college students.
To put it simply, that little app on our phones went from being a sometimes useful gimmick to a necessity on campus overnight. And the impact has been disastrous. In the past few weeks, Azzie’s has drastically changed the way it operates. There is a large metal table out front where people used to be able to stand while they wait for their order. The front is adorned in signs instructing students to download the mobile ordering app. Even the dozens of student-placed posters that used to cover the walls have been torn down and replaced with corporate mandated posters expressing school spirit. It’s almost comical how different the space itself feels.
With the physical location no longer being able to accommodate, patrons have been forced to evacuate online. And to be honest, the app is no more welcoming. When attempting to make your selection, you need to scroll through an enormous list of items, click what you want, and then select your payment method. Once at this screen, they will give you an estimation of when your order will be ready. This is where the problems begin to manifest. In my experience, this estimated wait time is never right, leaving students completely in the dark as to when their order will be ready. A graveyard of abandoned lattes and avocado toasts litter the front of Azzies, from patrons who were unable to pick them up, or didn’t even realize they were ready. People have found themselves agitated with these long queue times, blaming the employees, which only increases this weird feeling of dehumanization that I have noticed. It’s almost like they have become disembodied coffee-procurers that are attached to my phone, and not student baristas.
We order them around with a single click on our phones, forcibly connecting them to an arbitrary timer, and when they can’t perform the herculean task of staying on top of the hundreds of orders they get, we go to yikyak to complain about it. A wall has been built between us and the student employees who help make our days better. A digital wall encased in glass and brushed steel and aluminum.
This decision feels like the symptom of a much larger trend here at Oberlin. We mourn the loss of Biggs GoYeo. Where else am I supposed to get a freshly prepared smoothie packed with protein? Even the reservable rooms at Wilder are all online. The mailroom has switched over to an electronic locker method for a large number of packages. And while I do think this was a good change, enabling people to grab their items beyond the constraints of the mailroom’s select hours, the school seems intent on moving everything online. So many questions begin to arise: What happens during an internet outage? Where do students go now? What will be taken from us next? I guess we’ll inevitably see. But it is clear that a decidedly human element of Oberlin is slowly, but surely, being erased.
