Being a milkman for 24 hours
By the time it was 5:40 a.m. on Friday, the mini fridge behind Gelato Giusto’s counter was packed with fresh heavy cream, a few gallons of organic milk and cartons of plain yogurt. The milkmen had a spare set of keys in their pocket, which made quick deliveries possible long before the gelato shop owner wakes up for his business in Chelsea.
Through Manhattan Milk, Frank Acosta wants to revive the old-school concept of a milkman. Every week, the 36-year-old sources bottled milk from Winder Farms in Utah, eggs from Bryne Dairy in Syracuse, and yogurt from Seven Stars Farm in Pennsylvania. In weekdays, he and his crew of five have to arrive in the warehouse while everyone else is fast asleep, load the truck, get on the road before sunrise, and place the goods by his customer’s doorsteps.
Manhattan Milk entered the market at a time when FreshDirect enjoyed a relatively monopoly on the online grocery delivery business. Along with his friend, Matt Marone, Mr. Acosta launched the milkman business in 2008, with only one truck delivering to residences and schools in the city.
Mr. Acosta receives most of his orders from text messages and not on apps (“I’m a call type of guy”). He distributes goods for some smaller mom-and-pop companies that couldn’t afford their own delivery system. He takes classes at Mendez Boxing, a boutique gym because it preserves a sense of intimacy that fitness chains lack. He thinks Shake Shack lost its charm when it became a listed company.
He emphasized being a milkman is a tough job, as his employees usually load goods from the warehouse in Westchester as early as 1 a.m., and get on the road before sunrise.
After watching their coverage on NBC and Fox Business News, I sent a request to shadow the milkmen, who dress in matching navy uniforms.
It was 1:08 a.m. when the fear of oversleeping took over. In about four hours, I will have to get ready and follow the daily routine of a milkman
To make it easier for first-timers like me, Mr. Acosta said he will organize a pick-up near my apartment in East Harlem.
Bleary eyed, I hopped onto the delivery truck at 5:05 a.m. We made our first stop at West 49th Street in Times Square, an office building in between L’Occitane and M&M World. As expected from the theatre district, the night scene is still lit up by giant billboards and signs. There, the driver picked up Mr. Acosta and started the so-called milkman talk.
A cautionary tale: “You’ll get a ticket for the dumbest thing, like parking in the bicycle lane.”
His biggest fear: “What if Google fucking comes in and fucking deliver everything in drones?”
The biggest cost: “covering your cost for clients who don’t pay.” (One of his corporate clients ran behind $15,000 and switched to FreshDirect).
To stave off sleepiness, three of us chugged black coffee at Starbucks before we venture out of the city. It was the driver’s second caffeine shot.
Today’s itinerary covered houses in Bay Ridge, Dyker Heights and Carroll Gardens, a day care center in Queens, a nursery in Long Island City, and residential units in Williamsburg.
Stop by stop, we began to empty bottled milk and other dairy products in the refrigerated part of the truck. At 7:30 a.m., we pulled a quick stop near the nursery to grab some snacks. After all, there’re still three hours to go.
It was particularly tricky to deliver to the day care center, since there’s a zigzag path to the building and its kitchen is located in the basement.
After we finished all deliveries at around 9:30 a.m., I returned to my apartment with a great temptation to crawl back onto my bed. But that thought quickly vanished knowing there’s a journalism class at 1 p.m. I decided to get more coffee instead.
This is a tough job indeed. My brain was amped up as the day brightened, yet I felt more physically drained than ever by the time we’re done. It is hard not to consider the kind of work that firms put behind delivery requests, especially when everyone wants to see their goods on their doorsteps by the time they wake up.
