So, the company that built a multi-billion dollar empire on the premise that leaving your couch is a monumental chore now wants you to… go out.
Let that sink in.
DoorDash, the undisputed king of the “I can’t be bothered to put on pants” economy, just dropped a feature literally called “Going Out.” It’s a tab in the `doordash app` with a cute little icon of two chairs and a table, beckoning you into the big, scary world of three-dimensional restaurants. They’re offering reservations, in-store rewards, exclusive deals—a whole suite of tools designed to get you to physically move your body to a place that isn't your living room.
And they spent over a billion dollars to make it happen.
This is the part where you’re supposed to applaud their evolution, to marvel at how they’re expanding “beyond delivery to support the full dining journey.” That’s the line from the press release, anyway. But my brain just keeps getting stuck on the billion-dollar price tag for SevenRooms, the reservation platform they bought to power this whole thing. A billion dollars isn't an "oops, let's try something new" fund. It’s a declaration of war.
This isn't about giving you a new way to find a table. This is about ensuring that no matter how you decide to put food in your mouth, DoorDash gets a piece of the action and, more importantly, a piece of your data.
It's Not a Relationship, It's a Dossier
"Enriched Guest Profiles" Is Just a Nicer Way of Saying "Digital Stalker"
Let’s call this what it is. This is a bad idea. No, 'bad' doesn't cover it—this is a five-alarm dumpster fire of privacy invasion dressed up as convenience.
According to Parisa Sadrzadeh, a VP at the company, this new system provides restaurants with an “enriched guest profile.” I love corporate-speak. It’s so beautifully dishonest. An “enriched guest profile” lets the restaurant know if you’re a local or from out of town, what your dining preferences are, and—this is the kicker—if you’ve ordered delivery from them before.
Think about that for a second.
You, the `dasher` who brought me that sad, single burrito at 2 AM last Tuesday, are part of a data chain that now follows me into a nice restaurant on Saturday night. The maître d' can pull up a screen and see a digital ghost of my past culinary sins. “Ah, Mr. Ryder. Welcome. We see you enjoy our carnitas, but only when consumed alone in a dark room while binge-watching old sci-fi. Can we get you a table in the corner, away from the windows?”
They pitch this as a way for restaurants to “deliver personalized service and build stronger relationships.” Give me a break. It's about turning every customer into a predictable, monetizable data set. It’s about knowing your every move so they can market to you more effectively. The relationship they want to build isn't between you and the restaurant; it's between you and the DoorDash ecosystem, a walled garden you never have to leave.
And offcourse, restaurants will have access to this. They're desperate. The delivery model that DoorDash and `Uber Eats` pioneered has already squeezed their margins to the breaking point. Now, the same company that holds their delivery business hostage is offering them a new tool to "fill tables." It's a classic case of selling the disease and the cure in the same bottle.
Your Dinner Plans Are Now a Battlefield
The Great Food War You Didn't Know You Were In
This isn't happening in a vacuum. `Uber Eats` is already rolling out its own “Dine Out” tab with OpenTable. This is a land grab. It’s a race between the two dominant players to control the entire food vertical. They don’t just want to be your `doordash delivery` guy; they want to be your restaurant guide, your reservation agent, your payment processor, your ride-hailing service (yes, they’re offering discounted Lyft rides, too), and your personal data broker.
They want to own the transaction from the moment you think "I'm hungry" to the moment you pay the bill.
And we, the customers, are the prize. Every `doordash order` you make, every reservation you book, every in-store reward you redeem—it’s all just another thread woven into the tapestry of your “enriched guest profile.” They’re connecting your lazy, at-home self with your social, going-out self. The result is a complete, 360-degree view of your consumption habits. That data is worth infinitely more than the fee they collect on a delivery.
I just hate the pretense of it all. The idea that this is for our benefit. That getting $15 in DoorDash credits for visiting a restaurant four times is some kind of benevolent gift, and not just a digital leash to keep you on the platform. It reminds me of the self-checkout kiosks at the grocery store. They sell it as speed and convenience, but we all know it’s just a way to cut labor costs and make you do the work for free. I mean, at least pay me the cashier's salary if I'm going to be scanning my own groceries...
Then again, maybe I'm the crazy one here. Millions of people will probably love this. They’ll happily trade a detailed record of their entire dining history for a few bucks in credits and the ability to book a table without making a phone call. We've been conditioned to accept this trade-off for years. And honestly, the convenience is seductive. But it’s a slow erosion, a death by a thousand convenient cuts, until one day you realize you don’t have a single commercial interaction that isn’t being logged, tracked, and analyzed by some algorithm. And for what? So they can suggest a new taco place?
This isn’t an evolution. It’s an annexation. DoorDash isn't building a new wing on its house; it’s trying to buy the whole neighborhood. And they’re betting a billion dollars that we’ll be too busy saving $9 on our meal to even notice they’re putting a fence around it.
Congratulations, You're the Product Again
Let's be real. DoorDash didn't spend a billion dollars to help you find a nice place for dinner. They spent a billion dollars to buy you. They're not selling reservations to you; they're selling you to the restaurants. Your data, your habits, your history—that's the real menu item here. This whole "Going Out" song and dance is just the final step in their plan to own every single transaction that happens between your wallet and your stomach.
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