Vending machine locators by state: a venue owner’s guide
The share you are offered tracks your venue type far more closely than your state. Retail and forecourt venues get 50%; bowling alleys and play centres get 40%, sometimes 30%.
Vending, explained for the people who own the space.
Locators by State
Locators by State is written for the person being asked, not the person asking. When a locator calls about putting a machine in your building, these guides say which companies work in your state, what share of sales venues there are actually paid, what the paperwork commits you to, and which licence belongs to you rather than the operator. One guide per state, plus the overview.
The share you are offered tracks your venue type far more closely than your state. Retail and forecourt venues get 50%; bowling alleys and play centres get 40%, sometimes 30%.
A venue with ten times the footfall took a bigger share, not a smaller one. If your building is busy, Illinois is the state that says so out loud.
Every other venue paid half of net is a shop, a mall or a forecourt. One Kansas play centre got there too, on below-average traffic, which tells you something.
Four venues, one number. If your building is busier than Kentucky’s recorded four — and most are — the state’s going rate is not obviously your rate.
A premium-tier venue well above its category average still agreed the going rate. If Slidell could not move the number, the number is not really in play.
Two Maine venues, two completely different buildings, the same 40%. The question with room left in it is not the share but the licence.
Maryland’s record holds the busiest indoor playground in the country and a share identical to everyone else’s. So ask for something the share cannot give you.
Three Michigan venues, three categories, two percentages. The one that came out lowest is the category that comes out lowest everywhere in this record.
Most venues in this series have to argue from a national average. A Mississippi venue can point at a 45% and a 50% signed in its own state.
No state licence means nothing to check at state level. It does not mean nothing is required, and the exposure sits on your floor rather than theirs.
In most states the share is the term worth arguing about. In Montana it is the service interval, because nobody within two states has done this yet.
Nebraska’s statute protects the operator, not the host. It still hands a venue one checkable question that most states do not.
Nevada stacks its licensing in three layers and none of them attaches to your building. All three attach to the company putting a machine in it.
New Jersey’s own record kills the oldest argument in this business: that a quiet venue has to take less. Flanders took the median at three visitors a day.
New York’s listings average 38% of net, the lowest of any multi-venue state. That is a warning about the local benchmark, not a market rate.
Most single-listing states give a host an outlier to argue about. Oklahoma’s is the average venue on the average terms, which is rarer and more useful.
A fivefold spread in footfall produced no difference in terms. For a Tennessee host that settles where the conversation is worth having.
A Texas forecourt and a Texas mall both took half of net. If people walk through your building rather than visiting it, that is your opening number.
A Tyngsborough bowling alley sees 680 people a day and took 30% of net. Venues a tenth its size took 40%. That gap is not about the buildings.
Every other state guide here can tell a venue what its neighbours agreed. Minnesota cannot, which changes which number you should walk in with.
A licence expensive enough to avoid is a licence somebody will try to avoid. In New Hampshire the machine’s classification is the host’s question.
Most states let a sealed-package machine off the food licence. New Mexico does not, which turns a throwaway reassurance into a question worth asking.
A single listing can be used against a venue as easily as for it. North Carolina’s is a quiet arcade on the worst terms in the record.
Most states leave a venue trusting the operator’s word on compliance. North Dakota licenses each machine, so the question has a document behind it.
Oregon’s licence is one document for up to ten machines. That makes “is this machine licensed?” a question about someone else’s paperwork, and worth asking.
A host’s strongest instinct is that a busy building deserves better terms. Pennsylvania’s own record, in one category and one week, says otherwise.
A host with no state benchmark usually gets a national average. A Rhode Island venue gets two real deals it could drive to before lunch.
Most hosts in this series have to take a caller’s word on registration. In South Carolina the number is supposed to be in the advertisement.
Everywhere else in this series the paperwork follows the machine or the company. In South Dakota one of the licences follows your address.
Utah gives a host two things to look at: a number on the machine, and a permit priced by your own county’s risk category.
Vermont asks a host for nothing and asks the operator for almost nothing. What it gives a venue is a comparison just across the river.
Two Virginia venues signed four weeks apart at 30% and 40%. There is nothing to look up in this state, which makes the date on a bond the whole of it.
Most states leave a venue trusting whoever rang. Washington puts the number in the advertisement and the registration in a public file.
A permit tied to the premises and a certified manager who has to be somebody. West Virginia is one of the few states where hosting is a compliance question.
Elsewhere a venue negotiates against a national median. In Wisconsin there is a decent chance a comparable room down the road has already signed.
Most states hide the operator’s paperwork in a filing cabinet somewhere. Wyoming puts it on your wall and refuses to let it change hands.
On the mainland the locator is the stranger and the operator is local. In Hawaii there is no locator, which removes a layer and changes what you should ask for.
A machine in Boise and a machine in Coeur d’Alene answer to different offices 400 miles apart. Nobody raises that on the call, so you should.
A locator calling your Indiana business is adding a stop to a route that already runs through Ohio, Kentucky, Michigan or Illinois. That is worth something to you.
A thirty-day filing window is the simplest competence test a venue owner can apply. Ask when the licence goes in, and listen to the answer.
Two Florida venues took half of net and two took less than a third. Nothing about their locations explains the gap; what they are explains most of it.
Alabama puts almost nothing on the venue. No statewide vending permit, and a health permit only where food is held hot or cold — so read the share and the term instead.
A Fort Smith bowling alley took 40% of net. A Pine Bluff electronics store took 50%. The gap between them is the most useful number an Arkansas venue has.
California has no state vending licence, which means the permit question lands on a county office — and on whoever in the agreement remembered to name it.
With no vending licence and nothing to file, a Georgia host has only one thing to negotiate — and the state’s own record shows a twenty-point spread on it.
Every signed Ohio venue on the record agreed the same 40% of net and the same 16-month term. Knowing that before the call is most of the negotiation.
Alaska’s vending statute is strict, but it protects the operator buying locations, not the venue hosting them. Your protection is the agreement you sign.
Arizona is a home-rule state, so the vending rules stack: state tax licence, county health where food is temperature-controlled, and whatever your city adds on top.
The retail food licence a vending machine needs attaches to a premises. If your building already holds one, the first question is whether the machine sits inside it.
The state’s only recorded host had size on its side and settled for the median share. If your building is busy, the lesson is to trade on something other than the percentage.
Most states leave a host guessing which of three companies actually owns the machine. Delaware requires the answer to be printed on it.