My work in parcel delivery and pickup over the past seven years has effectively come to an end. My pickup volume had already been declining since last year, and there were many days when I didn’t go out for pickups but instead delegated the work to a driver at a neighboring agency. Since my expenses were exceeding my earnings, I had been thinking I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. However, I received an unexpected phone call from the owner of that agency, who proposed that I transfer my client volume to his agency. In exchange, he offered to increase my pickup contracts so that I would earn commissions whenever my volume increased. Since maintaining a sole proprietorship requires a steady flow of revenue and expenses, these terms were very favorable for me. I gladly accepted the offer and, on the last day of August, informed the owners of my client companies; thankfully, they gave me two bottles of coffee as a gift.
Wanting to mark my final pickup in a meaningful way, my wife and I drove the truck to the terminal and loaded the boxes. While helping an older fellow delivery driver—whom I’d occasionally run into at the terminal—load his truck, I told him today was my last day. He thanked me for my hard work and handed me two bottles of Bacchus. I also happened to run into the agency owner and his wife, introduced my wife to them, and thanked them for everything over the years. Finally, I said my goodbyes to the fellow delivery drivers I’d worked with, bringing my seven-year career in delivery work to a close.
I still vividly remember the first time I went to the Coupang logistics camp in Hang-dong, Incheon, in May 2019 to start my part-time job as a Coupang Flex delivery driver. I scanned the barcodes on each assigned box, found the addresses, placed the packages at the doorsteps, and took photos. I worked my way through various Coupang logistics camps and served as a delivery driver for Hanjin Express and CJ Korea Express, making deliveries through the alleyways of Dongchun-dong, Yeonsu-dong, Okryeon-dong, and Juan 8-dong. When I did early-morning deliveries of prepared side dishes, I drove 150 km a day, covering the entire Incheon area and even Yeongjong Island. Since it was an early morning delivery, I would park my car in the underground parking lot of an apartment complex during the quiet hours when everyone was asleep, take out the boxes, ride the elevator up, place them in front of the door, and take a photo. The task was simple, yet it held a peculiar sense of excitement. With each house offering a different view—from gates hidden deep in alleys to semi-basement units or small two-story homes—whenever I quietly set down a box and left, it felt as though I were legally sneaking up to someone’s doorstep.
Just as a waiter memorizes a long order, delivers it to the kitchen, and then completely forgets it, I too would plan my delivery route each dawn while carrying the day’s boxes, and once everything was done, I would completely erase that memory. Looking back now, it seems that this repetitive and simple routine gradually melted away the heavy thoughts that had been weighing me down, allowing me to slowly pull myself out of the swamp of depression. When I went to bed with a weary body, the memories of the day would be erased—and with them, any traces of regret. Every time a wave of regret washed over me—dozens of times a day—asking, “Why am I doing this right now?” I’d tell myself, “Just finish today’s deliveries safely, and then I’ll think about it again.” Following Jesus’ teaching that “today’s worries are enough for today,” I found myself living that way without even realizing it.
As days, weeks, months, and years passed, my routine as a delivery driver solidified. Ironically, even though my life was busy, it became simpler, and my mind found peace. To live more efficiently within that routine, I wore headphones all day—except when sleeping or sorting packages—and listened to the Bible, YouTube lectures, and audiobooks. It was as if I had stopped shaking a glass bottle filled with muddy water, let it sit until the impurities settled, and then refilled it with clean water. And paradoxically, as I passed through a tunnel of depression—a gloomy, dark place that felt like hell, as if God did not exist—I became even more certain of God’s presence. I realized that everything we take for granted—freedom, a safe environment, family and friends, our daily routines and work—as well as God’s laws, justice, authority, order, and even the small joys of life—are all things God has granted us. While I cannot begin to fathom the suffering Jesus endured when He was separated from God, I am now certain that my own dark times were also a time God permitted.
While having dinner with a brother from church, I mentioned that I had quit my delivery job, and he asked if I wasn’t sorry to miss seeing the sunset over the Incheon Bridge. I replied that I’d still be able to see it occasionally while driving, but I felt that the feeling of gazing at that sunset—loaded with delivery boxes and filled with the joy of a full load—would likely never return. Still, I give thanks to God for allowing all of this, and today I started my day with energy as I wrote this blog post.
Deliveryman's Blog 
Leave a comment