It’s not often we end up as participants in the disintegration of a billion-dollar tech company. My wife was a fan of Missfresh’s speedy grocery delivery. Its riders, always in hot-pink uniforms and always in a hurry, zipped items to our Beijing apartment in 30 minutes. “Fish, vegetables, fruit, nowhere else delivers so fast,” she says. “Where will I order from now?”
When I broke the news that Missfresh, which pioneered rapid delivery in China and was once valued at $3bn, was going bust last month, she flicked open the app and clicked on passion fruit and chicken feet, adding them to her cart. “It’s still usable,” she said with hope in her voice. Indeed, Missfresh’s digital presence still gives little indication of its troubles. The app’s live chat window apologises for a wait due to “heavy usage”. But placing an order proves impossible.
On a recent visit to our local fulfilment centre, bags of rice were strewn about. The tanks for live fish had been drained. A lone worker said he checked on things once a day but was unsure if he would ever be paid. The company laid off most of its workforce last month and still owes them two months’ wages. Missfresh’s Beijing headquarters, meanwhile, has become the focal point for protests by unpaid suppliers.