Zomato Gold or Zomato Cold? Wow, just wow. I must say, Zomato has truly mastered the art of testing human patience. If there was an award for “Slowest Food Delivery That Doubles as a Social Experiment on Hunger Management,” you guys would sweep the competition. Let’s talk about today’s record-breaking disaster—the restaurant is 5 minutes away. Not 50, not 15. FIVE. A normal person could’ve walked there, had a meal, tipped the waiter, and strolled back before my food even left the kitchen. But not with Zomato! No, no, no. Here, we embark on a journey. My delivery partner, instead of heading towards me, took a scenic route in the OPPOSITE direction. Maybe he was sightseeing? Maybe he needed a spiritual awakening before delivering my biryani? Who knows! Naturally, I contacted customer care. “Don’t worry, your order will be on time,” they said. On time for what? My funeral? Because that’s the only logical explanation at this point. An hour later, I call again, and now I get the real plot twist—apparently, the delivery guy’s phone is damaged, so he can’t accept orders. Ah, brilliant. So, instead of fixing the issue an hour ago, they waited for me to starve and then ask if they should reassign it. You tell me, Zomato—what was your backup plan? Manifest the food through sheer willpower? Hope I forget I ordered? At this point, I have to ask—is this a food delivery app or an elaborate psychological thriller? Because I swear, even Christopher Nolan couldn’t write a more confusing timeline than my food’s journey. But wait, the best part? Right before checkout, Zomato sweetly asks if I’d like to donate to "Feed India." Oh, the irony! I AM the one in need of food right now! Maybe I should start a donation campaign for myself—"Feed the Hungry Customer Waiting on Zomato." Imagine donating money to feed strangers when your own food is stuck in some parallel dimension. The audacity. And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse… The new delivery guy isn’t even moving. It’s been 20 minutes, and this man is sitting like he’s meditating on my food, contemplating life choices. Customer care had the nerve to tell me I’d get my food in 15-20 minutes. Guess what? They’ve now graciously offered me an option to cancel my order. Ah, yes, because waiting over an hour just to be told, “Do you even want the food anymore?” is exactly the five-star experience I was looking for. So what’s next, Zomato? Are you going to ask me if I want to cook it myself? Or will you launch a new feature where I pay extra for the privilege of actually receiving my order? Zomato, I bow down to your groundbreaking levels of incompetence. Maybe next time, I’ll just light my money on fire—it’ll be quicker and probably more satisfying. Do better. Or don’t. Either way, I’m ordering from Swiggy.