That’s What Friends Are For

For an exhibit builder, nothing is worse than having your client’s custom booth go missing before a show. Not only do you need to scramble to find something to replace the one-of-a-kind exhibit — and wipe the egg from your face — but if by some miracle your original booth shows up, your workload doubles as you now must replace the temporary booth with
the original — and fast.

Unfortunately, this is exactly the nightmare scenario I faced while working as an account executive for PPI Exhibits Inc. in 2003. We’d recently acquired a new client and designed and shipped its 10-by-20-foot booth to the American Bankers Association show in Orlando, FL. The design phase had gone smoothly, the client had scored a front-and-center space at the show, and the booth had been picked up from our Portland, OR, office as planned. With a one-day installation schedule followed by an opening reception in the show hall that night, I assumed our maiden voyage with the new client would be smooth sailing throughout the show.

Thus, my I&D crew and I arrived the day before move in, expecting our booth to arrive either that night or early the next morning, which would have given us plenty of time to get it up and running before the reception at 6 p.m. However, the evening came and went without a booth, and by 7 the next morning, we were all camped out in our exhibit space waiting for our shipment to arrive. As we watched crate after crate being delivered to other exhibitors around us, we began to worry, as our space seemed to be bypassed by the material handlers each time they came by. That’s when we began to worry.

At 9 a.m., our worry reached a critical mass. After all, the booth wouldn’t take long to erect, but the more the clock ticked, the less time we had to get everything completed. And while we had a few pieces of my client’s demo equipment that we’d shipped separately from the booth, we had no way to display it.

Thus, I quickly called my shipping agent to find out where the shipment was and when we could expect it. While my agent didn’t have an immediate answer, he tried to reassure me that the driver was probably just lost, and no doubt nearby. After a few more reassurances, he promised to track down the truck with our booth and get back to me.

At 11 a.m., the shipping agent called back with the bad news. It seems the truck driver hauling our booth had decided that since there was some empty space in the back of his trailer, he’d take on a little freelance cargo — and take a little detour. The extra work had taken him a lot longer than he’d planned, and the wayward trucker was nowhere near Orlando. In fact, our booth wouldn’t arrive until the wee hours of the night — long after the kick-off reception that was now just hours away.

Naturally, I freaked out. With a new client at its first show, a prominent booth location, and a welcome reception starting in a matter of hours, I knew we’d have to act fast not only to save the show but to keep our client from jumping ship to another supplier as a result of our impending disaster.

Figuring two heads were better than one, I quickly called my boss back in Portland, and we started brainstorming. Our first thought was to rent a booth. However, given the small size and short duration of the show, the show contractor didn’t have any rental exhibits available, so renting a booth was not an option.

But we didn’t give up that easily. Fortunately, my boss and I had extensive experience in the Orlando area, so we had several business associates in town. Our plan was to call those friends and see what we could beg and borrow to put together a booth — any booth — within the next few hours.

After what seemed like countless calls, and more pleading than I’d like to admit, my boss and I secured a back wall and some demo counters from an installation company and a local exhibit house, respectively. The exhibit house was also able to part with a basic gray pop-up exhibit for the night, which the installation company picked up for us. We then rented some stools from show services, and even found use for the case in which we’d shipped our demo items by covering it in black plastic and using it as a display stand.

Since our graphics were also riding with our wayward driver, I called a local graphics company to get a banner made. My boss forwarded the electronic graphics files, and the graphics company made us a simple banner. It was nothing like the slick graphics we had planned for the original booth, but at least it provided some kind of identification for the space.

Finally, we hung the graphic banner from the back wall, and our borrowed booth was complete. It wasn’t pretty, but at least it was functional, giving us a place to welcome attendees during our evening reception. As visitors enjoyed beverages and appetizers, none seemed to mind — or even notice — that the original exhibit was missing.

After the three-hour reception, I got word from my shipping agent that the truck would arrive soon. Knowing a long night was ahead, I got our I&D company to secure a new crew that could work late into the evening.

A few hours later, a rather grumpy and recently fired driver showed up and delivered our booth. With the exhibit hall to ourselves, the I&D crew and I worked late to take down the makeshift property and set up our original exhibit in its place. While we were exhausted, we finished with time to spare before the show opened at 9 a.m. the following day.

When attendees started filing onto the show floor, our real booth was in place, and only a few keen-eyed attendees noticed the exhibit switch-a-roo. Not surprisingly, my client wasn’t exactly happy about the initial problem, but our connections and resourcefulness impressed her. And while the driver had learned an important lesson about moonlighting, I had learned another: While some tasks may seem insurmountable, you can usually get by with a little help from your friends.

— Libby Wagner, operations program manager, Cisco Systems Inc., Atlanta