Opinion: Rage Against The (Vending) Machine

Christopher Simpson

This article is about a vending machine. While I love a nice V as much as the next student, there is one machine in particular that I do not like. In fact, I hate it. Ahab has Moby dick, Sherlock has Moriarty, and I have the refrigerated vending machine on floor six of the Kelburn Library. 

Let's unpack this together, shall we?

Kia ora. Like many students at Te Herenga Waka, I would like to get a degree. And to get that degree, I am likely going to need to study… a lot. 

I have always enjoyed studying in the library, where I can get away from the noise. I have also always respected the blue-zone/green-zone rules to the best of my ability. For those of you who need a reminder, in a blue zone you can expect “ a quiet place for individual study, others to respect your need for quiet, and library staff responsiveness to noise concerns.”

Lots of emphasis on quiet, right?

Well, if you ever happen to visit floor six of the Kelburn Library—which is a blue zone—you will notice a near-constant droning sound, a bit like a steroid-fueled bumblebee flying around your head. The culprit is a refrigerated vending machine placed smack-bang in the centre of the floor, right next to a dedicated quiet booth. 

Now, this is not a piece about health or anything. I’m probably cracking open a nice cold Monster Mango Loco right now as you read this (unless I've been taken out by Big Vending).

What this piece is about, dear reader, is not that students are expected to be able to take in massive amounts of information, read dozens—if not hundreds—of pages a week, and complete back-to-back assignments. It's a big ask, but we accepted this when we signed up. The problem is that we are starved of quiet spaces in which to complete this monumental task. 

Wellington is not a quiet city. She is bustling and loud, and we love her for it. But when quiet is what you need, you may soon realise that it is about as rare as a homophobe in Ivy Bar.

The Kelburn Library is not just desks and a nice view. It’s a quiet space to work through the mountains of materials standing between you and the special piece of paper we are all so desperate to get. Floor six, in particular, is not just another workspace. It’s meant to be a haven of peace and quiet—something that, for some students, is more valuable than Rockstar, Monster, or even Blue V. 

Most first-years live in halls, where they already have to put up with the sounds of their neighbours above, below, and to either side getting up to activities that belong in the ‘oh no, oh yes’ section. When they make their way up to university in search of a bit of peace and quiet on floor six, that peace is instead interrupted by the droning hum of our vending-machine overlord. 

As of the last time someone bothered to check—May of 2023, in case you were wondering—there were 33 vending machines at Kelburn campus. That number is probably higher now. Apparently, however, 33 was not enough. And the place another vending machine was needed most just happened to be one of the quietest places on campus.  

I am not suggesting this decision was made out of some malicious intent. I’m not a conspiracy theorist who can tell you the melting point of steel beams and the burning temperature of jet fuel. More likely, the machine's placement reflects a lack of planning, consultation, or student involvement. And it remains where it is because no one has made enough noise—figuratively, please—about it to the people responsible: Victoria University of Wellington’s Facilities Management team.

Well, to bring that aforementioned attention forward, a proactive opinionist would be required…

Enter stage from left: me.

Crowd cheers. Roses are thrown. 

No, I’m kidding. I guess once you spend a few months as a politics student, it goes to your head.  

But what I am not kidding about is the lack of genuinely quiet spaces for students who need them. Sit in the Hub, there are even more vending machines making even more of a ruckus—but that’s fine. Students do not need a silent university. This isn't A Quiet Place (2018). There is, however, a world of difference between a space that's meant to be quiet and one that actually is quiet.

Wellington has beautiful views, the noise of gigs spilling into the streets and flats above them, incredible tastes and smells coming from seemingly every restaurant (peep the three Michelin stars we just got). But quiet is a gift that many Te Herenga Waka students have a hard time finding. 

So do we reallyyyyy need a vending machine on a supposedly quiet floor of the library? 

Maybe we do. Maybe V and chips are more important than a quiet place where students can focus. 

Then again… maybe not.