November 10, 2025
SEOUL – “Every night, I place my order after putting my kids to bed. By the time we wake up, the groceries are at the door,” said Seo Min-jung, a 37-year-old working mother in Bundang, Gyeonggi Province. “I don’t know how I would manage mornings without it.”
For tens of millions of South Koreans like Seo, ultra-fast overnight delivery is not just a convenience. It’s almost a lifeline. Whether it’s diapers, rice or last-minute school supplies, services like Coupang’s “Rocket Wow Delivery” have made it normal to receive orders placed at midnight by 7 a.m.
But this level of speed comes with hidden costs. When labor advocates recently tried to raise concerns about those costs, the conversation was met with fierce backlash before it could even begin properly.
In late October, a union representing parcel delivery workers proposed that companies consider limiting deliveries between midnight and 5 a.m., citing health risks for night-shift delivery workers. The idea was raised during the first meeting of a government-led “social dialogue body” that includes logistics companies, policymakers, labor unions and consumer groups.
But the next day, news headlines claimed the union was demanding a “ban on dawn delivery.” Local media outlets warned of looming consumer chaos and accused the union of ignoring the needs of millions. The truth, that the time restriction was one of several discussion points, and not a final proposal, was buried, according to Kang Min-wook, head of the Coupang division of the union.
The union never called for a ban, but headlines said otherwise
“It was a starting point for negotiation, not a line in the sand,” said Kang of the Coupang union, which is affiliated with the Korean Confederation of Trade Unions, the nation’s largest labor federation.
“But as soon as the word ‘limit’ was mentioned, we were framed as trying to take something away from the public. Now the public is furious about a claim we didn’t even make. Even discussing worker safety feels impossible.”
The stakes for Korean consumers are understandably high. Even by conservative industry estimates, Coupang alone has more than 14 million subscribers to its Rocket Wow membership program, which offers unlimited next-day and early-morning delivery for a monthly fee of about 7,900 won ($6). This level of membership equates to almost one-third of the entire population.
The service covers a wide range of items — from fresh produce, electronics, cleaning supplies and more — and operates not only in Seoul and other major cities but also in many smaller towns nationwide, including Jeju Island, where it launched in February this year.
A personal pantry and warehouse for almost everyone
“For our cafe, if I realize at 11 p.m. that we’re out of paper cups or syrup, I just order it and it’s here before opening,” said Park Jin-woo, a 43-year-old cafe owner in Yongsan, Seoul. “I can’t afford to shut down for two hours to go buy inventory. This is faster than any wholesaler.”
“I get it. It’s like having an extra, on-demand pantry or warehouse outside the home or your business,” professor Lee Seung-yoon from Chung-Ang University, who researches social welfare and platform labor, told The Korea Herald. “People use it not just for convenience, but because their schedules are packed and their livelihoods can depend on it.”
“The emotional reaction to any proposed change isn’t surprising.”
What many consumers don’t see, however, is the structure powering this convenience, she explains. Night-shift delivery workers are mostly classified as independent contractors, not employees. That means they are excluded from standard labor protections like overtime pay, limits on working hours, or guaranteed rest periods.
According to a 2025 study co-led by professor Lee and public health professor Kim Seung-seop from Seoul National University, most dawn delivery drivers work more than 60 hours per week. Their rates of sleep disorders and depression are three to four times higher than other Korean workers. The survey of over 1,000 night delivery workers also found significantly elevated levels of suicidal ideation.
“These aren’t temporary gig workers supplementing their income,” said professor Lee. “More than half said this is their main job. And they’re doing it under conditions that would be considered dangerous in most countries.”
The most publicized case involved Jeong Seul-gi, a 41-year-old courier who died of a heart attack in May 2024 after working 63 hours per week, including overnight shifts. His death was ruled an occupational accident by the national workers’ compensation agency.
Jeong had texted his supervisor days before he died, saying, “I’m running like a dog.”
Most delivery workers say they choose night shifts. But is it really a choice?
Despite this, not everyone agrees that restrictions are needed. The Coupang Partners Alliance, a group of subcontracted delivery agents, recently surveyed 2,045 delivery workers and found that 93 percent opposed regulations on dawn delivery. Their reasons: night delivery avoids traffic, pays better and allows more flexibility.
Professor Kim from Seoul National University, however, challenges the idea that seemingly autonomous choice implies fairness. “It’s not really about preference. It’s about survival,” he said. “Based on our research, those people adapt to difficult jobs because better options aren’t available. That shouldn’t be the baseline for labor policy.”
What further complicates the issue is the political weaponization of the debate. “Some media outlets and politicians turned this into a culture war,” said professor Lee. “It became a story of entitled unions versus hardworking consumers, which is not what’s happening at all.”
“We are not saying dawn delivery must end,” said union representative Kang. “We’re saying the workers who make it possible deserve to stay alive and healthy. There are many ways that could be addressed. What matters is that we’re willing to talk, make trade-offs and find the most optimal solutions through negotiation.”