Students eat from these machines when the mess is closed, when class is about to start, or when the café is too far to walk. We treated the machines as part of that food system.
We interviewed people and watched the machines at the hours they get used. Morning rush, the gap between classes, late night. Students go there when the mess or the cafés are shut, or when they do not have time to walk.
Three things break the trip. You cannot tell which machine still has what you want. Payment and the map both fail when campus Wi-Fi fails. The security flap is heavy, and getting the item out is a wrestle if your hands are tired or hurt.
Interviews were short and next to the flap. We also talked to people who never buy. Security sits beside machines they are not allowed to use.
What we could change was small. Campus Wi-Fi stays bad, the machines stay where they are, and nobody was funding a new mess. The job was to make the machines that already exist easier to read and use.
Three changes, on the machines that already exist. Show what is actually stocked. Let someone pay when the network is down. Open the flap outward, and show what they have spent without nagging them.
11:30 PM. Mess closed, project half-done. You do not walk the hostel loop hoping a machine still has something edible. You search "Protein Bars." The map names the machine that still has them.
You get there. Campus Wi-Fi is dead. The offline wallet is already on the phone, so you tap. A check asks you to confirm you are at this machine, not the one two buildings over. That was the failure we kept seeing when GPS and payment both guessed. Then you lift an outward flap, phone still in the other hand.
That is the whole job: know what is in the box before you walk, pay when the network is gone, take the food without a wrestling match. The ethics questions below are what this journey still does not answer.
A wider brief, one that includes security and other people who work on campus, still has these open.