A Discussion on the Controversy of Higher Prices for Takeaway Self-Pickup on the FoodPanda Delivery Platform

FoodPanda, one of the top three food delivery platforms in the country (translated into Chinese as 食物熊貓, which the author likes to nickname 胖熊貓), has launched many newly developed business plans over the past year, among which the membership-based monthly subscription for free delivery on qualifying orders and Panda Mart grocery delivery are the most popular with users. The author himself has subscribed for several months.

Perhaps the company noticed that the author would deliberately subscribe for only one month, then wait until the next delivery before adding another month, leaving a gap period in between without paying.

In recent months, FoodPanda launched an annual fee plan with even more benefits, originally priced at 1,299 yuan but offered at a limited-time discount of 1,079 yuan, which works out to only about 90 yuan per month, allowing you to enjoy the same great-value service of free delivery on qualifying orders and various discount plans that previously required a monthly fee of 139 yuan—binding everyone in, the better to kick out penny-pinching parasites like the author.

Among this series of new services, a “takeaway self-pickup” feature was actually ignored by the author for a long time, even though its button advertised a “minimum 21% off discount.”

After all, the whole point of using FoodPanda 胖熊貓 is that you don’t want to go out, and you’re even willing to pay a not-so-cheap delivery fee (ranging from 25 to 49) to get the courier’s transport service.

If I’m going to pick up food myself from a nearby restaurant, I might as well just walk over—why spend time fiddling with my phone? Sometimes after choosing for ages, the FoodPanda app even crashes.

However, in the past month the author did use the takeaway self-pickup service twice: once when a family member was unwell, and to save time caring for them nearby, he pre-ordered fresh fish congee from a nearby intersection; the other time, while out for a walk, he had a sudden idea to pick up Korean fried chicken on the way home, so standing alone by a utility pole on the roadside in the cold sea breeze, he pre-ordered the meal on his phone.

Interestingly, when both restaurants handed the meal to the author, they both thoughtfully said in unison: “Next time just call us directly to order—don’t use the FoodPanda app anymore, the price will be much higher.”

Because it’s been a while, the author recalls that the in-store original price of the fresh fish congee was about 120 yuan, while the FoodPanda takeaway self-pickup price was 170 yuan—a full 50-yuan coin more expensive. As for the Korean fried chicken, because I used that period’s exclusive discount, the price happened to be exactly the same as the in-store price; otherwise the original markup would probably have been enough to buy another half portion of Korean stir-fried glass noodles.

Looking at the actual delivery price of the fresh fish congee on the platform, it’s 180 yuan (excluding delivery fee), meaning takeaway self-pickup saves 9 yuan—genuinely a little cheaper, but this discount only holds when compared against the delivery platform’s own pricing.

If you call the restaurant yourself to order and then go pick it up, you can get the meal at a price much cheaper than the platform. However, although FoodPanda provides the restaurant menu (partial), reviews, address, and business hours in its app, it does not provide contact phone number information, perhaps out of concern that everyone would just contact the restaurant directly.

The author suggests that friends who want takeaway self-pickup can refer to the FoodPanda platform’s menu, then search Google for the restaurant’s contact information, and call them yourself. Many times you can even ask about delicious dishes that, under platform regulations, each restaurant cannot list in detail.

In fact, based on the author’s long-term experience using 胖熊貓’s delivery meal service, the platform price and the in-store price are sometimes kept similar, while some restaurants charge a good deal more—as for how the contracts in between are negotiated, that’s each to their own devices.

In fact, the platform takes a 35% cut from merchants. So how much is passed on to consumers is ultimately decided by the store.

In the author’s own experience so far, he has yet to see a takeaway self-pickup price that can compare with the in-store price.

It is presumed that the price difference between the restaurant’s price and the platform’s price must be pocketed by the platform operator as operating costs, and then the courier’s delivery fee is still borne by the consumer. So even if monthly-fee members can enjoy free delivery on qualifying orders, this is the result of carefully calculating the meal price difference into it.

Actually, this is a normal business model—otherwise, what would FoodPanda earn? But taking 50 yuan on a single bowl of congee can be described as a tip of nearly 40%, 5% higher than the 35% the system operator publicly discloses. For a family of six, a single meal means an extra 300 yuan in expenses, not including the price difference of additional side dishes or soup.

Simply put, the company can earn money from every dish, and given that the system load consumed in a single transaction is similar, the more a consumer buys in one transaction, the more the company profits.

If the same business model were used to calculate delivery fees based on meal weight and delivery distance, the couriers would probably be very happy.

In fact, from the perspective of the service industry, it means that no matter what roadside-stall commoner snack it is, as long as it goes through the delivery platform’s value-added service, it instantly elevates into a refined restaurant offering delivery service. But a roadside stall is still a roadside stall after all, so the discordant note of the meal price issue arises naturally.

In fact, when I didn’t particularly care before, I wouldn’t particularly mind whether I was being overcharged. But ever since those two restaurants kindly advised the author, that stingy, frugal thinking in the back of his mind just won’t go away.