The Shadow of Cainiao's Algorithm: When Elevator Doors Become a Crack in Social Morality

These tools we created with our own hands, while solving old problems, are generating new and more complex social issues.

The Afternoon When the Parcel Was "Signed For" by the System

At 2:17 PM, Chen Min's phone vibrated. She opened the Cainiao app, and a glaring notification popped up on the screen: "Your parcel has been signed for by you in person." She froze at her workstation, turning to look at the office entrance — which was completely empty, with no courier in sight, let alone the imported coffee set she had been waiting for three days.

It was an utterly ordinary e-commerce shopping day in the spring of 2026. Chen Min called the courier, who explained rapidly against a noisy background: "Sister, I clicked sign for first, I will definitely deliver it in the afternoon, otherwise the system will fine me." Before she could ask what "the system will fine me" meant, the line went dead with a busy tone.

This was not an experience unique to Chen Min. On the Black Cat Complaint Platform, complaints about "false sign-offs" piled up like snowflakes. One consumer detailed their rights-protection process: the courier marked the parcel as signed for at 10:57 AM, but when she arrived at the so-called sign-off location — a Cainiao station — at 11:03 AM, she was told that "the JD parcel has not been delivered to this station." The gap between logistics information and reality is being systematically created.

Couriers call this "sign first, deliver later", academics refer to it as a "false sign-off strategy", and in the industry's internal discourse system, it is just a cold survival skill. One courier confessed in an academic interview: "The rule is that parcels must be signed for the same day, at most 2% can be left for the next day. We usually start calling from 4 PM, hoping to get customers to pick up their parcels today, or negotiate with them to sign in advance." Another added: "Sometimes I even pay the fines out of my own pocket, hundreds of yuan, because the delivery rate requirement is there — you can't fall below 98%."

A Peking University PhD student also recorded similar findings during his field research working as a courier: The fine for false sign-off is as high as 700 yuan, and lost parcels must be compensated at full price with a minimum fine of 300 yuan. Although the penalties are severe, the PhD found that when a customer complains about false sign-off, the station's customer service will notify the courier first. If the courier can promptly call the customer to explain and seek understanding, getting the customer to withdraw the complaint in the system, the fine can be waived. This leads couriers to generally hold the fluke mentality of "falsely sign first, then beg for mercy if caught".

In this world where algorithms track time down to the second, integrity has become a tradeable cost, while consumers' time and expectations have turned into the externalized costs of system optimization.

Sign-off Rate: The Sword of Damocles Hanging Over Their Heads

To understand why false sign-offs are rampant, we must step into the precise and cruel performance labyrinth at the end of the express delivery chain.

In the express delivery industry's internal management, the "sign-off rate" is an absolutely dominant indicator. The sign-off rate refers to the proportion of orders that are delivered and marked as signed within the specified time. Headquarters conducts high-frequency assessments on outlets: for morning parcels, there is an assessment at 2 PM, 5 PM, 7 PM, and possibly another one the next day. Every failure to meet the standard means a fine.

That is not all. The fine system for false sign-offs is like an airtight net. According to industry internal training materials leaked, the Cainiao system's penalties for false sign-offs are extremely strict: A 10-yuan fine for missing a work order due to timeout, a 50-yuan fine if the customer states during a follow-up call that the outlet did not contact them, a 200-yuan fine for false registration of query results, and a 100-yuan fine for no final outcome after the second follow-up. If the second appeal fails, the fine can reach up to 1000 yuan.

A Cainiao station operator revealed that even veteran workers with years of experience "cannot avoid fines of three to five hundred yuan" every month.

Under such high pressure, couriers face a typical "prisoner's dilemma": if they follow the procedures honestly — make a call first, wait for the customer to open the door, and then complete the sign-off — with a daily delivery volume of 150 to 220 parcels, there is simply not enough time. A ZTO courier did the math: if every parcel requires a phone call, with each call taking an average of one minute, 200 parcels would take 200 minutes, about 3.3 hours. That is only the time spent on calls, not counting the time climbing stairs, waiting for elevators, finding apartment numbers, and making redeliveries.

What is crueler is that time pressure and income pressure form a double stranglehold. The per-parcel delivery fee has been continuously declining, remaining at around 1 yuan or even lower in most regions. Meanwhile, the proportion of last-mile delivery costs in enterprises' total costs is rising — from 2021 to 2024, STO Express saw this ratio increase from 57% to 63%, YTO Express jumped sharply from 46% to 57%, and Yunda Express grew from 55% to 61%. This scissor gap between falling unit prices and rising last-mile costs ultimately squeezes the couriers' already razor-thin income space.

As a result, a distorted incentive structure has taken shape: the system assesses efficiency through "sign-off rate" and punishes delays with "fines", but never reserves sufficient time and profit margin for "compliant operations". Couriers do not lack the willingness to be honest — the system forces them to choose between "integrity" and "survival". When the scales of choice tip far enough, false sign-offs evolve from a "violation" into an "unspoken industry rule".

"Bad Money Drives Out Good Money" in the Elevator

If false sign-offs are the crack that algorithm systems tear in commercial ethics, then the collapse of order in elevator lobbies is the spread of this algorithmic anxiety into the domain of public morality.

This is an easily overlooked yet highly metaphorical scene: in the elevators of office or residential buildings, couriers in various work uniforms are often the most anxious group. They drag carts full of parcels in one hand, staring at the countdown timer on their phones with the other, their eyes darting between the floor numbers and the order-taking interfaces of delivery platforms. The moment the elevator door opens, they almost reflexively rush inside — regardless of whether anyone inside is trying to get out.

"Let passengers exit first before entering", the basic public order principle that even primary school students understand, becomes extremely fragile under the urging of algorithm countdowns. An office worker who frequently enters and exits commercial buildings described: "Sometimes as soon as the elevator door opens, several couriers push their carts to squeeze in, before people inside can step out. When you try to reason with them, they look extremely anxious, as if the world will collapse if they are one second late. Over time, other people also start rushing to get in and out, because if you don't fight, you will never squeeze into the elevator."

This is the typical "bad money drives out good money" effect. When rule-abiding people find that following the "exit first, enter later" rule means never being able to squeeze into the elevator, always being late, and always getting fined, while rule-breakers can gain a few extra minutes and complete more orders, rational choices will push everyone to the opposite side of the rules. The civility in elevator lobbies thus collapses little by little under the driving force of algorithms.

Behind this phenomenon, a deep-seated socio-psychological mechanism is at play. What French sociologist Émile Durkheim called "anomie" — the chaotic state where individuals are at a loss when old norms fail and new norms have not yet been established — is actually unfolding in the last-mile delivery sector. Traditional business ethics and public morality are retreating steadily in the face of algorithmic efficiency, while new ethical norms adapted to the algorithm era are far from being established.

What is more thought-provoking is that this anomie is highly contagious. Couriers do not live in a vacuum. Academic research found that algorithmic management intensifies couriers' work pressure, with them describing "various factors that can trigger mental breakdowns". "Late delivery" is one of the main stressors, mentioned by couriers as many as 79 times. Algorithms are perceived as designed to push couriers to work faster, while customer uncivilized behavior, location tracking, and customer evaluation systems give customers more power, further oppressing couriers. When they stay in a "rush against time" stress state for more than ten hours a day, this anxiety seeps into every scenario of their social interactions. The collisions in elevators, the wrong-way driving on roads, the impatience over the phone — these seemingly isolated behaviors are actually different manifestations of the same systemic pressure.

Consumers: The Silenced Majority Kidnapped by Convenience

In this game between algorithms and humans, consumers are in an awkward and contradictory position.

On the one hand, we are enjoying unprecedented logistics convenience. Data from June 2026 shows that China's express service quality index reached 677.6, and the 72-hour delivery completion rate in key regions is estimated at 87.4%, a year-on-year increase of 1.4 percentage points. We have grown accustomed to the speed myth of "place an order today, get it tomorrow" and the low-price miracle of free shipping for orders costing only a few yuan.

But on the other hand, this convenience is charging us a hidden price. False sign-offs are just the tip of the iceberg. According to data from the State Post Bureau, in the fourth quarter of 2023, among user appeals about express delivery service issues, "failure to hand over parcels at the designated address in person" and "virtual sign-off" accounted for the largest proportion.

Worse still, false sign-offs can trigger a chain reaction. One consumer, after having their parcel signed for privately by a Cainiao station, applied for a seven-day no-reason return, but was rejected by the seller on the grounds of "exceeding the seven-day limit" — because the sign-off date shown in the system was three full days earlier than the actual pickup date.

Consumers are facing a typical "lose-lose dilemma": if we strictly enforce new regulations requiring door-to-door delivery and phone confirmation for every parcel, last-mile delivery efficiency will be directly cut in half, leading to widespread express delays and worse consumer experience; if we allow the status quo to continue, it means acquiescing to false sign-offs and the continuous decline of service quality. As a senior express industry insider pointed out: "Strict implementation of the new regulations will increase the cost per parcel by 2 yuan, which will be passed on to merchants and users." The per-parcel express fee in Yiwu is already as low as just over 2 yuan, and the increase in last-mile delivery costs may directly curb the generation of low-unit-price small orders.

We have been trained by the system to become "greedy users" who demand speed, low prices, and good service all at once, but we have never been truly given the right to make trade-offs between "speed, price, and service quality". We frown when couriers rush in and out of elevators; but when our own parcels are delayed for two days due to "compliant operations", we do not hesitate to press the complaint button. Consumers and couriers are being turned into opposing sides by the algorithm's divisive influence.

Trapped in the System Are Not Only Couriers

In 2026, the express delivery industry is undergoing a painful evolution and division. Intelligentization is advancing triumphantly — new models such as drone delivery and autonomous vehicle door-to-door delivery are quietly emerging — while grassroots outlets and couriers are struggling on the verge of survival. This sense of fragmentation is the epitome of the failure of technological evolution and social structure to adjust in sync.

However, attributing all problems to "algorithms" or "capital" is too simplistic. Algorithms themselves are neutral; they are just efficiency tools. The real problem is that when algorithms are embedded into a highly involuted competitive structure, they amplify the intensity of this involution without providing any buffer mechanism.

The dilemma of the express industry is essentially a concentrated manifestation of the growing pains of China's service sector transformation. As the demographic dividend fades, labor costs rise, and consumers' demands for service quality improve, while the industry still remains in the extensive competition stage of trading price for volume, all pressures will be transmitted downward along the industrial chain, ultimately falling on the group at the end with the least bargaining power.

The newly revised "Regulations on the Administration of the Express Delivery Market", which came into effect in March 2024, attempts to correct this imbalance through administrative power, explicitly stipulating that without user consent, no one may confirm receipt of parcels on their behalf, nor may parcels be delivered to smart parcel lockers or express service stations without permission. But the policy's goodwill has encountered harsh reality: in the last-mile ecosystem where delivery fees are repeatedly cut and time efficiency is contested by every second, compliant operations mean skyrocketing costs and plummeting efficiency. Policy design fails to align with the manpower, cost, and efficiency realities of last-mile express delivery, ignoring the fragile balance between the three.

This is a typical "Collingridge Dilemma": until a technology is widely applied, its impacts cannot be fully predicted; but once it is widely used, it becomes difficult to control. The Cainiao system, food delivery platforms, ride-hailing algorithms — these tools we created with our own hands, while solving old problems, are generating new and more complex social issues.

Finding a Third Path Between Efficiency and Civility

Facing the shadow of algorithms, we are not powerless.

First of all, we need to acknowledge a basic fact: last-mile express service is not a pure efficiency issue, but a systematic project involving human dignity, public order, and social trust. Any algorithm design that completely instrumentalizes people will eventually face human backlash — whether in the form of false sign-offs or the collapse of elevator lobby order.

Secondly, the industry needs to establish a more reasonable cost transmission mechanism. Low express fees are an important cornerstone of China's e-commerce miracle, but this miracle cannot be built on the excessive overdraw of frontline practitioners. When the proportion of last-mile delivery costs exceeds 60% of enterprises' total costs, while per-parcel revenue is still declining, the sustainability of the entire business model itself is questionable.

Thirdly, technology should serve people, not drive them. As scholars have pointed out, enterprises and managers should be guided to develop "systems and algorithms that are more friendly to the labor process and more inclusive of complex labor scenarios", which not only protects the rights and interests of workers, but also enables more authentic and effective implementation of service standards.

This means algorithms need to leave room for human autonomy — allowing couriers to flexibly adjust according to actual situations, rather than using stopwatches and fines to force them to become appendages of the algorithm.

Finally, as consumers, we need to realize our complicit role in this system. Our obsession with "next-day delivery", our greed for "free shipping", and our habit of complaining to couriers for the slightest delay are all invisibly reinforcing that oppressive algorithmic cage. Changes can start from tiny acts of kindness: giving couriers five more minutes, voluntarily giving way in the elevator, making a phone call before filing a complaint — these seemingly trivial actions are using human warmth to melt the cold iron wall cast by algorithms.

Conclusion: After the Elevator Door Closes

At 6 PM, Chen Min finally received the coffee set. The courier placed a huge cardboard box at her doorstep, without knocking on the door or making a call, only sending a follow-up "delivered" notification in the Cainiao system. She looked at the box, recalling the moment of "system sign-off" that afternoon, her heart filled with mixed emotions.

Meanwhile, in the elevator lobby of the same building, a young man in work uniform was pushing a cart full of parcels, staring anxiously at the jumping floor numbers. The elevator door was about to open, and he subconsciously gripped the cart handle, leaning forward — but the moment the door opened, he saw an elderly man with a cane walking slowly out.

He hesitated for a second, then stepped back.

This one second cannot be calculated by algorithms. But this one second may be the gap through which civility can continue to survive.

This article is from the WeChat public account "Coopetition AI", author: Lili, published with authorization from 36Kr.