From Canning to Clicks:

📦 From Canning to Clicks: How Delivery Culture Took Over Our Lives

By Tina Winterlik aka Zipolita

I was born in 1962, and when I think about how much the world — especially here in British Columbia — has changed, it sometimes feels like I’ve lived on two different planets.

I remember my grandmother's kitchen. The stove burned wood. The food was grown or gathered, canned or cooked from scratch. Milk might have been delivered by a milkman, but everything else? You either grew it, made it, or went out and got it yourself. There was very little waste. Food came in glass jars, paper bags, and cloth sacks. Plastic was rare. Convenience meant you didn’t have to hitch the horse.

My mom, born in 1930, lived through the Depression and WWII rationing. She knew how to make a little go a long way. When my parents moved to Surrey, they bought a little hobby farm. We had chickens, a garden, fruit trees — and a deep freezer. My mom canned peaches, made jam, and baked bread. That was normal.

Then the malls came.

We lived for the Sears Christmas Wish Book. It came in the mail, and my siblings and I would fight over it, circling toys with pens, dreaming. Later, Eaton’s had a catalog too. Shopping was a planned event, usually requiring a car trip to town or the newly built mall. You didn’t buy something unless you needed it. And when you did, it came in a paper bag and lasted.

Fast forward to now…

It’s 2025. I walk outside and see more delivery people on bikes, scooters, and in cars than I’ve ever seen. It’s like an army of couriers — rain or shine, dodging traffic, hauling padded bags and cardboard boxes. Amazon, DoorDash, Uber Eats, Skip the Dishes… you name it. It's not just packages and electronics. People get toothpaste, sushi, socks, dog food — delivered to their door within hours.

Every item arrives cocooned in layers of packaging. Cardboard, plastic wrap, bubble wrap, packing tape, bags within boxes. The waste is staggering. Some apartments have more Amazon boxes in their recycling than they have groceries in the fridge.

What have we traded?

• We traded time-saving convenience for local connection.
• We traded self-reliance for one-click dependency.
• We traded home-cooked meals for algorithm-chosen snacks.
• We traded neighbours helping neighbours for gig workers under pressure.
• We traded a sense of enough for an endless stream of more.

And the irony?
We now have to bike to the food bank or struggle to get housing, while vans and scooters flood our neighborhoods delivering stuff most of us can’t afford anymore — to people stuck inside, overwhelmed, or overworked.

Meanwhile, the cost of living skyrockets. And those gig workers delivering all the convenience? Many can’t even afford to live in the cities they serve.

Where did the simplicity go?

There’s nothing wrong with progress — but we have to ask, progress for who?

When a generation that once grew their own food and made their own bread now watches their grandkids wait for a robot to drop off takeout at the doorstep, it’s time to pause.

Maybe we don’t need to go all the way back to wood stoves and hand-churned butter — but maybe we need to reconnect with what we’ve lost: community, self-sufficiency, dignity, and a sustainable way of living.

Maybe we need to can something. Bake something. Share something.
And maybe we need to ask: who’s really benefiting from this so-called convenience?

💭 Reflective Questions:

• When was the last time you made something instead of ordering it?
• What part of “convenience culture” are you willing to give up to live more sustainably or reconnect with your community?

#DeliveryCulture #Consumerism #Sustainability #CommunityConnection #VancouverVoices #Zipolita

Letter to the Youth: “They’re Not Coming. So We Save Ourselves

(Spanish and French translation below)

🔥 A Letter to the Youth: “They’re Not Coming. So We Save Ourselves.”

By Tina Winterlik aka Zipolita

Dear Youth,

You’ve been lied to.
“Go to school,” they said.
“Get a job,” they said.
“Work hard, and you’ll be fine.”

But you’re not fine. You’re exhausted. You’re sending out hundreds of resumes into the void. You’re drowning in debt, working gigs that lead nowhere, living with your parents—or in a tent—while housing becomes a billionaire’s playground.

And now you’re quitting. Walking away from the job hunt altogether. And guess what?

I get it. I’ve lived it.

I’m 63. Born and raised in B.C.
I’ve worked more jobs than I can list—berry picking, factories, industrial laundries, nannying, Expo 86, cruise ship photographer, janitor, caregiver.
I’ve gone back to school, been buried in student loans, got tossed around by economic crashes, pregnancy, single motherhood, and now—I'm “too experienced,” “too old,” “too something.”

I still can’t get a job.

I clean houses for friends. Couch-surf. Make art. Try to survive. And in all these years, here’s the truth I’ve learned:

The government is not coming to help you.
They’re busy managing PR and propping up systems that serve corporations—not you.

But that doesn’t mean there’s no hope.

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🌱 Here’s what you CAN do: Build your own way. Together.

F*** waiting for help. F*** endless applications.

It’s time to organize.
Time to gather.
Time to build.

Imagine this:

• Kids in kindergarten designing tiny houses.
• Teens in high school building them—learning tools, plumbing, solar panels, carpentry, gardening.
• You graduate with skills, with community, with shelter you helped create.

You don’t need their system.
You need each other.

Start your own co-ops.
Build communes.
Create garden villages and art spaces.
Live together, support each other, trade skills and food and energy.

They want you isolated. Online. Addicted. Scared.
That’s how they control you.

But when you get together, in real life, and start to build—you become unstoppable.

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✊ Final Words from an Old Timer

You aren’t broken.
The system is.

You aren’t lazy.
You’ve been exploited.

You don’t lack skills.
You lack space to use them.

So take the space. Make it. Claim it. Together.

The new revolution is local. Practical. Communal. DIY.

Pick up a hammer. Plant a seed. Paint a mural. Build a table. Trade your labour for lunch. Share your story. Speak truth. Help your friends. Take care of the elders. Be fierce. Be soft. Be unstoppable.

With love,
🔥 Tina Winterlik aka Zipolita
Artist. Fighter. Mother.
Still here. Still dreaming. Still building.

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🇪🇸 Carta a la Juventud: “No van a venir. Así que nos salvamos nosotros mismos.”

Por Tina Winterlik alias Zipolita

Querida juventud,

Les han mentido.
“Ve a la escuela,” dijeron.
“Consigue un trabajo,” dijeron.
“Trabaja duro, y estarás bien.”

Pero no están bien. Están agotados. Envían cientos de currículums al vacío. Están ahogados en deudas, atrapados en trabajos basura, viviendo con sus padres—o en una tienda de campaña—mientras las viviendas se convierten en juguetes de los millonarios.

Y ahora están renunciando. Alejándose de la búsqueda laboral. ¿Y saben qué?

Lo entiendo. Yo lo viví.

Tengo 63 años. Nací y crecí en B.C.
He trabajado en todo: cosechando frutas, fábricas, lavanderías industriales, niñera, Expo 86, fotógrafa en cruceros, conserje, cuidadora.
Volví a estudiar, me endeudé hasta el cuello, viví los colapsos económicos, fui madre soltera... y ahora me dicen que estoy “demasiado experimentada”, “demasiado mayor”, “demasiado algo”.

Y aún así, nadie me contrata.

Limpio casas de amigos. Vivo de sofá en sofá. Hago arte. Sobrevivo. Y en todos estos años, aprendí algo muy claro:

El gobierno no va a salvarlos.
Están ocupados protegiendo a las corporaciones, no a ustedes.

Pero eso no significa que no haya esperanza.

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🌱 ¿Qué SÍ pueden hacer? Construyan su propio camino. Juntos.

A la mierda esperar ayuda.
A la mierda enviar currículums sin respuesta.

Es hora de organizarse.
Reunirse.
Construir.

Imaginen esto:

• Niños en kínder diseñando casas pequeñas.
• Jóvenes de secundaria construyéndolas—aprendiendo herramientas, plomería, energía solar, jardinería.
• Se gradúan con habilidades, comunidad y un hogar que ayudaron a crear.

No necesitan su sistema.
Se necesitan entre ustedes.

Formen cooperativas.
Construyan comunas.
Creen aldeas con jardines y espacios artísticos.
Vivan juntos, compartan, intercambien habilidades y alimentos.

Quieren que estén aislados. En línea. Adictos. Con miedo.
Así los controlan.

Pero si se reúnen en la vida real y comienzan a construir... se vuelven imparables.

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✊ Palabras finales de una vieja luchadora

No están rotos.
El sistema lo está.

No son flojos.
Los han explotado.

No les faltan habilidades.
Les falta un lugar donde usarlas.

Así que tomen el espacio. Háganlo. Reclámenlo. Juntos.

La nueva revolución es local. Práctica. Comunitaria. Hecha a mano.

Tomen un martillo. Planten una semilla. Pinten un mural. Construyan una mesa. Intercambien trabajo por almuerzo. Cuenten su historia. Digan la verdad. Ayuden a sus amigos. Cuiden a los abuelos. Sean feroces. Sean dulces. Sean imparables.

Con amor,
🔥 Tina Winterlik alias Zipolita
Artista. Guerrera. Madre.
Todavía aquí. Todavía soñando. Todavía construyendo.

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🇫🇷 Lettre à la jeunesse : « Ils ne viendront pas. Alors on se sauve nous-mêmes. »

Par Tina Winterlik alias Zipolita

Chère jeunesse,

On vous a menti.
« Va à l'école », disaient-ils.
« Trouve un travail », disaient-ils.
« Travaille dur, et tout ira bien. »

Mais tout ne va pas bien. Vous êtes épuisés. Vous envoyez des centaines de CVs sans réponse. Vous êtes engloutis par les dettes, enchaînés à des petits boulots, vivant chez vos parents—ou sous une tente—tandis que le logement devient un jouet pour les milliardaires.

Et maintenant, vous abandonnez. Vous arrêtez de chercher du travail. Et devinez quoi ?

Je comprends. Je l'ai vécu.

J’ai 63 ans. Née et élevée en Colombie-Britannique.
J’ai fait tous les boulots : cueillir des baies, travailler en usine, en blanchisserie, nounou, Expo 86, photographe sur un bateau de croisière, concierge, aide-soignante.
Je suis retournée à l’école, je me suis endettée, j’ai traversé les crises économiques, j’ai été mère célibataire… et aujourd’hui ? Je suis “trop expérimentée”, “trop vieille”, “trop quelque chose”.

Et toujours aucun emploi pour moi.

Je nettoie des maisons. Je dors chez des amis. Je fais de l’art. Je survis. Et j’ai appris une vérité très simple :

Le gouvernement ne viendra pas vous sauver.
Il sert les intérêts des grandes entreprises, pas les vôtres.

Mais ça ne veut pas dire qu’il n’y a aucun espoir.

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🌱 Ce que vous POUVEZ faire : Construisez votre propre chemin. Ensemble.

Assez d’attendre.
Assez d’envoyer des candidatures inutiles.

Il est temps de s’organiser.
De se rassembler.
De construire.

Imaginez :

• Des enfants qui conçoivent des mini-maisons à la maternelle.
• Des ados qui les construisent au lycée—apprenant les outils, le solaire, la plomberie, le jardinage.
• Diplômés avec des vraies compétences, une communauté, et un toit qu’ils ont bâti eux-mêmes.

Vous n’avez pas besoin de leur système.
Vous avez besoin les uns des autres.

Créez des coopératives.
Des éco-communautés.
Des villages-jardins et des lieux artistiques.
Vivez ensemble. Partagez. Échangez. Grandissez.

Ils vous veulent seuls. Connectés. Dépendants. Effrayés.
C’est comme ça qu’ils vous contrôlent.

Mais quand vous vous réunissez et que vous commencez à construire... vous devenez invincibles.

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✊ Derniers mots d’une ancienne combattante

Vous n’êtes pas cassés.
C’est le système qui l’est.

Vous n’êtes pas paresseux.
Vous êtes exploités.

Vous avez des compétences.
Il vous faut juste un espace pour les exprimer.

Alors prenez cet espace. Créez-le. Protégez-le. Ensemble.

La nouvelle révolution est locale. Pratique. Collective. Artisanale.

Prenez un marteau. Plantez une graine. Peignez une fresque. Fabriquez une table. Échangez un repas contre un coup de main. Racontez votre histoire. Dites la vérité. Aidez vos amis. Protégez les anciens. Soyez forts. Soyez doux. Soyez inarrêtables.

Avec amour,
🔥 Tina Winterlik alias Zipolita
Artiste. Guerrière. Maman.
Toujours là. Toujours rêveuse. Toujours bâtisseuse.

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