Layover

Three lines of copy, then a live airport picker. Earlier passes opened with a carousel and a paragraph explaining what a layover is, which every traveller already knows. Pick an airport and the next thing it asks is which terminal, in a dialog it will not let you skip: that looks like friction and is the opposite, because nothing on the page after it is true until it knows. Everything further down is ordered by distance from the payoff: the three-step explainer, the lounge tease, the app download, the footer.

The directory on the left answers four questions before you click anything: who, how far, how good, how long. The pier replaces the street address, because in a terminal where is the only question that matters, and Veg and Non-Veg sit in the header beside All rather than behind a Filters drawer. Then, once the order is in, the only thing that matters is the number of minutes. The itemised order, the outlet's phone number and the map stay under it, so when something goes wrong you are ten metres from the person who can fix it.

The onboarding says what the app does and gets out of the way. Skip sits on the first frame, not the last, because making a confident user sit through three screens to reassure an uncertain one is a tax paid by the wrong person.

Then the only question that matters. Domestic or international decides which piers you can reach and the terminal decides the entire menu, so all of it is asked once, up front, as radio buttons rather than a search, and stays editable from the header on every screen after this. Sign-up took thirteen versions before it ended up behind the browsing instead of in front of it.

Prep time is the loudest thing on every card, and it follows you down from the outlet into the menu header. On a restaurant app the price decides; in a terminal the clock does. The veg toggle sits top right where a thumb reaches it, the veg mark repeats on every item rather than living only in a filter, and the floating jump control exists because an airport menu is long and you are reading it standing up with a bag on your shoulder.

The bill is itemised before the button: item total, GST, platform fee, and the platform fee's own GST, all visible without expanding anything. Airport pricing is what travellers are most suspicious of, so hiding a line here would cost more trust than the line is worth. This is also where the account is finally asked for, and not one screen earlier.

Registration, contact verification, documents, review. The last frame does the thing most onboarding flows skip: it says what happens next and how long it takes, 34 to 48 hours, with the checks listed. An airport outlet signing up to a platform they have never heard of needs that more than they need a prettier form.

The new order takes the top of the screen on its own, with Accept and Reject as the two largest targets on the page. Everything already accepted drops into the grid below, colour-coded Ready or Delivered with a timer running on each. There is no navigation to learn, because the whole job lives on one surface.

Sections and items sit the way the traveller will see them, and each is edited in place rather than through a separate builder. Availability is a toggle on the card itself: a stale menu in an airport means a refunded order and a passenger who has already boarded, so turning one item off has to cost one tap.

A vendor's first login shows a menu with nothing in it. That is their first impression of the entire platform, so it got the same attention as the dashboard: one illustration, one sentence, one button, and the same Add Section control that lives in the header, so the thing you learn here still works tomorrow.

The form and the coupon it produces sit side by side, so the outlet sees what the traveller will see while they are still typing. Coupons ship with a QR code because half of airport promotion happens on a printed standee next to the till, not inside an app.

Today against yesterday at the top, then the month, then Activity by time, which is the chart that actually earns its place here. An airport kitchen staffs against flight banks rather than against lunch and dinner, and this is the only screen in the product that shows them where those banks are.

Contact, category, submitted date, the documents behind a View, then the two decisions. Everything needed to make the call sits on the card, so approving a vendor never turns into a tab-switching exercise. Add New Vendor is in the corner for the outlets that get onboarded in a meeting rather than through the form.

Four metrics, four fixed positions on every row, and one switch that takes an outlet offline. Prep time is on this list for the same reason it is on the traveller's card: it is the number that predicts a complaint. Manage opens that vendor's own portal, so support never has to describe a screen down a phone.

At launch an outlet's first menu upload is rarely right: wrong prices, missing veg marks, an item that does not exist any more. So admin can correct it directly, and the edit screens here are identical to the vendor's own, because two interfaces for the same job is how the two drift apart.