I Tried Instacart So I Could Make a Little Extra Money

I didn't sign up for Instacart because I had always dreamed of spending my afternoons wandering around Publix with someone else's grocery list.

I signed up because I wanted to make some extra money.

After everything life had thrown at us, I was looking for ways to bring in a little more without taking on a traditional job with a fixed schedule. Instacart seemed like it might fit the bill. I could stay close to home, decide which orders I wanted, and stop whenever I wanted.

At least, that was the idea.

I decided to give it a real test instead of doing one order and immediately deciding whether I liked it. I worked it over three days while a couple of promotions were running.

One was a $130 guarantee if I completed the required number of batches. The other gave me an additional $8 on each of my first three orders.

So I wasn't just watching what I earned.

I was watching how many batches I had completed, how much time I was spending, how many miles I was putting on my car, and whether the orders themselves were actually worth doing.

And by the third day, I was down to the wire.

I needed three more batches before the promotion deadline.

I thought I had them.

I went home exhausted, only to open the app and discover that I still needed one more.

That was when I realized this experiment was teaching me something I hadn't expected.

The real cost of a side hustle isn't always measured in dollars.

Sometimes it's the time you spend waiting for work.

Sometimes it's the miles on your car.

Sometimes it's the mental energy of making a hundred little decisions.

And sometimes it's realizing that you're sitting at home tired, staring at your phone, wondering whether you should go back out because there's one more batch you need to complete.

Day One: Figuring Out What I Had Signed Up For

My first order had nine items.

It took about 35 minutes from accepting the batch to completing the delivery, and I made a total of $16.07.

That included the $8 promotional bonus and a $3.96 tip.

Honestly, I thought that was pretty good.

If this was what Instacart looked like, I could see why people did it.

Day Two: The Little Things Start Adding Up

I got a Publix customer pickup.

This one had 44 items, which fit into 12 grocery bags and had one bulk item.

It took about an hour.

I had to shop for everything and then sort and label the groceries, putting everything into the freezer, refrigerator, and shelf areas for the customer to pick up and tell the app where each bag was located.

I made $17.43, including the promotional money.

There was no tip.

That order changed my thinking a little.

The number on the offer had looked reasonable.

The amount of work hiding behind that number was a different story.

It made me realize that I couldn't judge an order just by what it paid.

I had to look at the whole thing.

How many items?

How far away?

What kind of store?

How complicated would it be?

Was there a tip?

How long was this realistically going to take?

No other orders were coming through so I went home and set at the table staring at my phone.

4 hours later an order came through. This quickly became my favorite order of the day.

One bag of bird seed.

It was from Tractor Supply, about ten minutes away.

The batch pay was only $5.12, but it had the $8 promotion attached to it and the customer initially tipped $4.40. Later, they increased the tip to $6.40.

I made $19.52.

And I thought, Okay. This is the kind of order I want.

It was close.

It was simple.

I didn't have to wander around a grocery store looking for 40 things.

I picked up a bag of bird seed and delivered it.

Done.

I went home again and 2 hours later I got an order to shop. It was for four items at a convenience store nearby. I could handle that!

I quickly grabbed the toilet paper, the bag of chips, headed for the chocolate syrup that no doubt was marked a critical item to go with the ice cream I was supposed to grab next.

I picked the syrup off the shelf and scanned it. The app alerted me that it wasnt a match. It asked me to take a picture.

It refused to accept the syrup even though it was the same size, same brand, same price and same picture as the exampe.. I asked the clerk why it wasnt working.

She said sometimes that happens with instacart and there is nothing they can do to fix it.

I messaged the customer that they have the syrup but the app wont let me add it to the order. Would she like me to cancel the item and refund the money? She replied yes.

So I checked out. Delivered the item five houses down from the store and got paid $6.11. The breakdown was $4.12 for shopping and $1.99 for a tip.

That was when I started to understand that a low-paying order isn't necessarily a bad order.

A small, close order can be much better than a higher-paying order that eats up your time.

Now I was paying more attention.

I was learning to look beyond the amount offered and think about what I was actually going to have to do to earn it.

That sounds obvious.

It wasn't.

When you see an order offering $15 or $20, your brain naturally wants to compare that number to the amount of time you think it will take.

But there are a lot of things happening around the edges.

You have to get to the store.

You have to find everything.

You may have to contact the customer.

You may have to wait for a response.

You may have to substitute something.

You have to check out.

Then you have to find the house.

And sometimes finding the house is its own adventure.

I also started thinking more about mileage.

We have a new car, and I didn't want to put a bunch of unnecessary miles on it chasing $5 orders.

That became one of my rules pretty quickly:

I wanted to stay close to home.

That sounds like a simple preference, but it eliminated quite a few orders.

And that was another thing I hadn't really considered when I first thought about "flexibility."

I could choose which orders to accept.

But I couldn't choose which orders would be available.

I could turn the app on at 10 a.m.

I couldn't make a worthwhile order appear at 10:15.

Sometimes I waited.

Sometimes I stared at my phone.

Sometimes I thought about turning it off and going home.

And sometimes I stayed online longer than I really wanted to because I was hoping something better would come through.

So yes, I had flexibility.

But it wasn't quite the kind of flexibility I had imagined.

Day Three: The Promotion Comes Down to the Wire

By the third day, the promotion was becoming the main event.

I needed three more batches.

I still wanted to stay close to home, and I wasn't willing to drive all over the place just to finish the promotion.

Then a double Publix batch came through.

This was my first time shopping for two customers at once.

I had brought several long, rectangular reusable bags from BJ's, put them in the cart do divide the orders up.

I could put one customer's groceries in one bag and the other customer's groceries in another.

It kept things separated in the cart and later in the car.

I decided that next time I'd probably clip cards to the bags so I could identify each customer even more easily.

Because keeping two orders separate is a job in itself.

Then I started shopping.

Several items weren't available for one customer.

One was marked as critical.

There wasn't anything remotely close, so I suggested alternatives and continued shopping while I waited for the customer to respond.

Then I had to go back to the deli.

None of this was catastrophic.

But it was another reminder that grocery shopping for somebody else is different from grocery shopping for yourself.

When I'm shopping for our family, if something is out of stock, I decide what we're going to have instead.

When I'm shopping for someone else, I have to stop and ask.

That's part of the job.

Then came the delivery.

The first house didn't have a visible house number on the mailbox or the house.

After I marked that I had arrived, the customer's additional instructions appeared.

It was a corner house with a fence.

I was at a corner house with a fence.

It also had a large rolling gate across the driveway.

I had to pull the gate over enough to squeeze through with the groceries.

Sometimes the app shows a previous delivery photo, which can help you confirm that you've found the right house.

Sometimes it doesn't.

So even something as simple as "take groceries to the front door" can involve a little detective work.

Eventually, I delivered both orders.

The tips were decent.

And I moved on.

I was learning.

Then Came Aldi

I was not preparred for Aldi.

The next order was another double batch.

This time it was at Aldi near the harbor.

I had never shopped at this particular Aldi before.

That matters more than you might think.

When you're shopping for yourself, you can wander around until you find what you're looking for.

When you're shopping two orders at once, wandering around an unfamiliar store becomes a lot more complicated.

I was trying to learn the layout, find everything, keep the two orders separated, and make sure I wasn't forgetting anything.

Then I noticed something that really surprised me.

Some of the refrigerated products were more than a month past their expiration dates.

I couldn't just grab the first package I found.

I had to dig farther back into the refrigerators looking for dates that were actually acceptable.

And that's another part of the job that isn't obvious when you look at the app.

The customer isn't standing there checking the refrigerator.

They're trusting the shopper to notice things like that.

I wasn't going to knowingly send somebody expired food.

So I dug.

And dug.

And kept looking.

Then I got to checkout.

And everything got weird.

When the App Thinks You Paid for the Wrong Order

Somehow, the two orders got switched in the app.

I was trying to upload the receipt for one order, and the app was telling me I had paid for the other one.

I was holding up the line.

I couldn't get the app to understand what had happened.

I was trying to troubleshoot it while people were waiting behind me.

Eventually, I used the other person's order to pay for the one I was working on because I couldn't keep standing there blocking the line while I tried to figure it out.

I headed to the bagging area and even asked InstaCarts AI whether what I was doing was okay because, at that point, I needed another brain.

It said it was and to just deliver the correct items to the correct houses. They charge based on what I scan and not what when through the check out.

But the clock had been ticking the entire time.

And I still had two deliveries to make.

And Then There Was the Guy in Aldi

While I was shopping, an older man started talking to me about delivery platforms.

At first, it was just conversation.

Then he started hitting on me.

I tried to keep shopping.

He found me again.

I remember thinking that I just wanted to finish my list and leave.

It wasn't some enormous traumatic event.

It was just uncomfortable.

And it was one more thing delaying my orders.

That's what I kept noticing.

It was rarely one giant problem.

It was a whole pile of little things.

One substitution.

One missing item.

One expired product.

One checkout problem.

One uncomfortable conversation.

One gate.

One phone call.

One more thing to remember.

And when you are the person responsible for solving all of those things, they add up.

The Delivery Wasn't Over Yet

The first Aldi customer lived nearby. I was an easy delivery.

I apologized for the late order and he was so sweet and understanding.

But the second order tested my patience to no end.

It was in a gated community.

There weren't guards sitting at the gate anymore. They worked remotely.

I explained why I was there, gave them the address, and put my driver's license into the reader.

Then they told me Instacart shoppers weren't on the approved list for this house.

They needed to call the resident.

They called.

No answer.

Eventually, I was allowed through the gate, but I had to immediately turn around and leave.

So I pulled back up to the gate and tried again.

Then I called the customer.

She kept telling me how I was supposed to get through the gate.

I finally had to tell her that I had already done exactly what she was telling me to do twice, and they still wouldn't let me through.

I got another guard on the line and gave them the customer's phone number.

This time they verified everything.

I got through.

And finally delivered the groceries.

The customer was ordering for her father.

He was an older man, and he was incredibly sweet and appreciative. He shook my hand.

And that moment actually meant something to me.

Because underneath all of the nonsense, there was still a person who needed groceries.

His daughter was trying to take care of him.

And I had helped make that happen.

It was a good reminder that the people on the other end of these orders aren't just names and addresses in an app.

They're people.

Sometimes they really do need the help.

I Thought I Was Finished

By the time I finished the Aldi double, I was exhausted.

And because I had just completed another double batch, I thought I had done enough to finish the promotion.

So I went home.

I was done.

Except I wasn't.

I checked the app.

I still needed one more batch.

I just stared at it.

After everything I had done that day, I still needed one.

This was the point where the promotion had officially gotten into my head.

If I hadn't been trying to complete it, I probably would have stayed home.

But I was so close.

So I went back online.

At that point, I didn't want anything complicated.

I wanted small.

I wanted close.

I wanted boring.

The first thing that came through was a small Publix order nearby.

Perfect.

Only a few items.

I shopped it in seven minutes.

Checkout was easy.

The delivery even took me in the direction of home.

Finally.

An easy one.

Except It Was Dark

The app sent me down a long, unlit road to an apartment complex tucked in to the corner of town.

It was around 8 p.m.

This was the apartment complex where my neighbor had told me her son had been shot last year.

And suddenly, I was very aware that I was a woman alone delivering groceries after dark to an apartment complex I didn't know.

I didn't love it.

I had trouble finding the unit but after driving around for a little, I was able to make the delivery, got back into my car, signed off, and headed home.

I got home around 8:20.

And that was it.

Three days.

Done.

What the Numbers Actually Said

When I added everything up, I had driven 75.2 miles.

I had six active hours, (not how many hours I spent sitting around for an order, those were far more).

My regular earnings were $70.06.

That works out to about $11.67 per active hour before the promotional money.

The promotions added another $90.64.

My total was $160.70.

That makes the number look much better.

$26.78 per active hour.

And if I wanted to write a simple article about how much money I made with Instacart, I could stop right there.

But I don't think that would tell the truth.

Because the app doesn't measure everything that happened.

It doesn't measure the time I spent waiting for an order.

It doesn't measure the time I spent staring at my phone wondering whether I should stay online.

It doesn't measure the mental energy involved in deciding whether an order was worth accepting.

It doesn't measure checking expiration dates.

It doesn't measure keeping two orders separated.

It doesn't measure waiting for customers to respond.

It doesn't measure figuring out checkout problems.

It doesn't measure gates.

It doesn't measure searching for houses.

It doesn't measure uncomfortable interactions.

And it doesn't measure the feeling of realizing you still need one more batch after you've already gone home.

Those things don't show up in the earnings screen.

But they're still part of the job.

The Part I Didn't Expect

I found myself rushing.

At one point, I realized I was speeding while driving.

I wasn't thinking as clearly as I normally would.

I was trying to keep track of too many things at once.

Where am I going?

Which groceries belong to which customer?

Did I get everything?

Did the customer answer?

What was I supposed to substitute?

Where is the house?

Can I get through the gate?

How many batches do I have left?

How much longer do I want to be out?

When was the last time I ate?

It wasn't one big stressful event.

It was the accumulation.

And I realized something about myself:

I don't like operating under that much adrenaline.

That matters.

Because when you're trying to make extra money, it's easy to look at the money and forget to look at the rest of the equation.

But the rest of the equation is still there.

So, Would I Do Instacart Again?

Maybe.

And I think that's actually a pretty good result from the experiment.

I didn't hate it.

I didn't love it.

I learned that some orders can be worthwhile and some absolutely aren't.

I learned that a tiny order close to home can be much better than a higher-paying order that takes forever.

I learned that double batches require a system.

I learned that reusable bags can make a surprisingly big difference.

I learned that promotions can make mediocre orders look much more appealing.

And I learned that I need to be careful about letting a promotion become the reason I keep working after I'm ready to stop.

I also learned that there are things I genuinely like about gig work.

I like being able to say no.

I like being able to stop.

I like not having someone else's schedule dictate my entire day.

And I like knowing that, every once in a while, I'm doing something genuinely useful for another person.

But I'm going to be more selective.

I'm not interested in driving across town for a $5 order.

I'm not interested in putting unnecessary miles on my car just to complete a promotion.

And I'm definitely not interested in making money in a way that leaves me so keyed up that I'm still thinking about it at four in the morning two days later.

Because that's when the bigger question starts to matter.

What Is the Money Actually For?

This is the part of the experiment that surprised me most.

I started Instacart because I wanted to make more money.

But the point of making more money isn't supposed to be having more money to look at.

The point is what that money does for your life.

It should make something better.

It should give you breathing room.

It should help you pay something off.

It should fund a trip.

It should let you fix something that needs fixing.

It should give your family a little more security.

Whatever the reason is, the money is supposed to serve your life.

Not the other way around.

So if I make an extra $100 but spend the entire day stressed, put unnecessary miles on my car, rush around town, stay out later than I wanted, and come home with nothing left in my tank, I have to ask what that $100 actually cost me.

Sometimes the answer might still be, "It was worth it."

There are seasons when you need the money.

Sometimes an imperfect solution is still a useful solution.

But I don't want to build a life where I'm constantly trading my time, energy, and peace for another few dollars.

That's not the kind of wealth I'm interested in.

The Real Lesson From Three Days of Grocery Delivery

I don't think Instacart is good or bad.

I think it's a tool.

And like any tool, whether it's useful depends on how you use it.

For me, that means being selective.

Looking at the whole order instead of just the payout.

Watching the mileage.

Paying attention to how much time I'm actually spending.

Knowing when a promotion is helping me and when I'm letting the promotion make decisions for me.

And remembering that my time has value even when nobody is paying me for every minute of it.

That's probably the biggest thing I took away from those three days.

Making more money isn't automatically the same thing as making a better life.

Sometimes making a better life means finding another income stream.

Sometimes it means learning how to use one more strategically.

And sometimes it means deciding that something isn't worth what it costs you.

You don't always know which one it is until you try.

So that's what I did.

I tried it.

I paid attention.

I counted the money.

I counted the miles.

And I paid attention to how I felt when I came home.

For now, Instacart might still have a place in my toolbox.

But it isn't going to run my life.

Because the goal was never just to make a little extra money.

The goal was to build a life that is better because we made it.

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