Machine #2: This one took longer to find. I finally landed a spot at a car wash with decent foot traffic. We agreed on 10% commission to the owner. It does $450–$600 a month. After commission and costs, I pocket $250–$400.

If you're wondering—yes, you can find cheaper machines.

I saw some on Facebook Marketplace for $800. But I learned quickly that older machines break more often, and every repair eats into your profit. Paying a bit more upfront saved me headaches later.

The best margins come from items people don't think twice about buying. A $1.50 soda that costs me $0.65 adds up fast when you sell 15 of them a day.

Or cotton candies. Much easier to move out since the demand is high especially when the location suits.

I learned this the hard way: a good location makes an average machine profitable. A bad location makes a great machine useless.

Before I found the car wash spot, I tried placing a machine at a small gym. Seemed logical—people work out, they get thirsty, right? Wrong. I sold maybe $80 in two months. The owner was nice about it, but I pulled the machine and ate the loss.

That’s when I started offering commissions to location owners. Not because I wanted to give away money—but because it gave me access to spots other operators weren’t getting.

One owner told me straight up: “You’re the first person who offered me a cut. Everyone else just asked to put the machine for free.”

That deal got me exclusivity. No other machines in his building. And that’s when the numbers started making sense.

I need to clear something up before we go any further.

When people hear "passive income," they imagine money showing up in their bank account while they're sipping cocktails on a beach. That's not this. At least not at first.

But here's what I've learned: semi-passive is still pretty great when the alternative is sitting through another all-hands meeting or pretending to care about someone's weekend plans.

With two machines, I spend about 5–6 hours a week on the business. Here's how that breaks down:

The rest of the time? Nothing.

The machines just sit there, doing their thing.

One morning I woke up to a notification from my card reader app: $87 in sales overnight. I was still in bed. That feeling never gets old.

It might not a lot for some people but common it's still money I earned while sleeping.

I think about it like this: I put in concentrated bursts of work so I can have long stretches of nothing.

A typical 9-to-5 job spreads your energy thin across five days. With vending, I knock out everything in one afternoon and then I'm free. No emails. No Slack messages. No one asking me for "five minutes" that turn into an hour.

That freedom is worth more than the money to me.

Related: 43 Passive Income ideas for Introverts

The other way around is having a deal with someone to do it on your behalf. That way you get more time in exchange of a small remuneration.

I'd love to tell you everything went smoothly from day one. It didn't.

Looking back, I made some dumb mistakes.

The kind that make you stare at a machine and ask yourself why you thought this was a good idea. But those mistakes taught me more than any successful month ever did.

Remember that gym I mentioned earlier? I saw people walking in and out and thought, "Perfect. Active people. They'll buy drinks."

I didn't sit there and watch. I didn't ask the owner what people actually bought. I just dropped the machine in and hoped.

Turns out, that gym had a water fountain right next to the entrance and a smoothie bar inside. Nobody was buying bottled drinks from a machine when they could get a fresh smoothie for a few dollars more.

As a result,

I lost about $400 on that machine between the purchase, the move, and the inventory that sat there for two months before I pulled it.

What I do now: Before I commit to any location, I sit and watch. Sometimes for an hour. Sometimes I'll stop by at different times of day. I look for patterns. Do people come in with coffee already? Are they carrying water bottles? What's the flow?

It sounds simple, but skipping that step cost me real money.

My first machine was a Facebook Marketplace special. $800 for an old snack machine that "worked perfectly."

It didn't.

The bill acceptor jammed every third transaction. The card reader I installed kept losing connection. I was driving out there twice a week to fix something, and every repair chipped away at whatever profit I was making.

After three months of frustration, I sold it for parts and bought a refurbished machine from a local vendor. Cost me $2,200. I haven't had a single mechanical issue in eight months.

Lesson: Buy once, cry once. A reliable machine is worth the upfront cost.

When I started, I thought commissions were for suckers. Why give away money I earned?

Then I spent months getting rejected by location owners. "We already have a machine." "Not interested." "We don't want the hassle."

Once I started offering 10–15% of sales, doors opened. Suddenly owners saw me as a partner, not someone trying to take space for free.

The Takeaway

Every mistake cost me something—time, money, or pride. But each one made the next decision better.

If you're starting out, expect to mess up. Just try to make your mistakes on small things before you scale.

If I could go back to that office lobby, sitting there waiting for an interview I didn't want, and someone told me I'd end up with vending machines a year later?

I'd probably laugh.

Then I'd ask where to start.

Because yeah, I'd do it again. Without hesitation.

But I also wouldn't pretend it's for everyone. I've met people who tried vending and hated it. They wanted something truly passive—money that shows up without any effort. That's not what this is. At least not in the beginning.

Related: The Ultimate guide to create passive income streams

On the flip side, if you're looking for:

Man, This isn't your thing. And that's okay. Better to know that now than after buying a machine.

I've got two machines running smoothly, a third in the works, and I'm always keeping an eye out for the right location. I'm not trying to build an empire. I just want enough machines that the income feels meaningful without the work becoming overwhelming.

Three or four machines feels like my sweet spot. Enough to matter. Not so many that I lose the flexibility I started this for.

And honestly? Every time I drive past that office building where I had my interview, I smile a little. Not because I'm bitter—I barely remember the job.

But because that waiting room showed me something I needed to see.

Sometimes the best opportunities are the ones quietly working in the corner while everyone else is rushing past.

Every time I mention the vending machines to someone, I get the same questions. So I figured I'd put them all in one place.

With two machines, I average $400–650 a month in profit. Some months are better (holidays, summer), some are slower (January is always rough). The car wash machine does more in summer. The office machine dips when people are on vacation.

If I hit my goal of three machines, I expect to be in the $700–900 range consistently.

About 5–6 hours a week total. Most of that is restocking every two weeks. The rest is random fixes, checking cash, and scouting new locations.

Some weeks I do nothing. Literally nothing. The machines just run.

I was nervous about this too. So far, no issues.

I avoid placing machines in high-risk areas—no 24-hour laundromats in rough neighborhoods, no unsupervised lots. Both my machines are inside businesses with cameras and regular foot traffic.

That's also why I offer them a cut - security inside their location.

The card readers also help. Less cash in the machine means less temptation.

Yes. Unless your machines are within walking distance (unlikely), you'll be driving. A small SUV or hatchback works fine. I use a folding hand truck to move inventory.

Most issues are simple. Jammed products, bill acceptors acting up, card readers losing signal. I learned basic fixes from YouTube and vending forums.

For bigger problems, I have a local repair guy I trust. He charges $75–150 depending on the job. I factor that into my monthly budget.

This was the hardest part.

I started with places I already had connections to—a friend who owned a small office, a car wash I went to regularly. After that, I started offering commissions to owners.

My approach now: I walk into a business, ask for the owner or manager, and say something like:

"Hi, I run vending machines. I'm looking for a spot to place one. I handle everything—machine, stocking, maintenance—and I pay you a percentage of sales. No cost to you. You interested?"

It's short surprisingly working, and shows I'm not asking for a handout. About 3 in 10 conversations turns into a yes.

Absolutely. I started while working full-time. The flexibility is the whole point.

You restock on weekends or after work.

Most locations don't care when you show up as long as the machine stays full.

That relationships matter more than machines.

I spent so much time researching equipment and products. But the game changer was when I started treating location owners like partners instead of gatekeepers. The 10–15% commission I give away comes back in steady income, exclusivity, and owners who actually want me there.

You can't make money by yourself. Find the right people to work with.

I didn't start this to get rich. I started it because I wanted something that worked with my life instead of against it.

Two machines in, a third on the way, and a little over $500 a month coming in. It's not a fortune. But it's mine. Built quietly, on my terms, without pretending to be someone I'm not.

If you've been sitting on the idea, wondering if it's worth trying, here's what I'd say:

Start small. Buy one machine used. Find one decent location. See if the rhythm of it fits you.

Worst case, you lose a few thousand dollars and sell the machine. Best case, you build something that gives you more freedom than you had before.

Either way, you'll know.

And if you end up like me—driving around with a podcast, stocking snacks, watching the notifications roll in while you're still in bed—you might just find it was worth the leap.