Plan A: I've spent years evangelizing sustainable exhibit design, which means I've also spent years explaining that “paper-based” does not mean “fragile.” The engineered fiberboard structures from my company, Prisma Flex, are strong, printable, recyclable, and CNC-cut to spec, and yet they're made entirely from post-consumer paper pulp. And that's why Copeland was a perfect partner for us.

Copeland, which provides compression technologies and control solutions, needed a sturdy yet sustainable 20-by-20-foot exhibit for the Global Produce & Floral Show in Anaheim, CA. Sustainability isn't a marketing angle. It's baked into their operations and product philosophy. So our engineered fiberboard system was an honest solution for Copeland.

Aside from monitors, seating, and lighting, the entire booth we designed for Copeland was made from our material. We printed their graphics and flat packed the display so it fit within a single crate weighing less than 850 pounds. Shipping and installation labor costs were minimal, and after the show, the structure would be recycled on site, eliminating return shipping and storage costs.

I traveled to Anaheim to ensure the first-time install went smoothly. GES handled the heavy lifting, and everything went exactly according to plan.

The finished exhibit featured a 9-by-12-foot enclosed meeting room with a door, a built-in meeting table made from the same fiberboard material, and a ceiling bulkhead with embedded light fixtures. Outside the meeting space was a coffee bar with built-in storage, which was connected to the main structure by a trellis element. The booth also included additional storage cupboards, bold branded graphics along the front, and a presentation area with a rented touchscreen TV mounted above a built-in fiberboard table.

By the morning before show open, AV setup was done, and the booth was, for all intents and purposes, finished. The Copeland team and I were simply tidying the stand while show labor was laying aisle carpet. Per usual, forklifts were zooming around during that quiet-but-chaotic window before opening.

There's a specific kind of tension that exists in that pre-show hour. Everything looks done, but nothing feels safe. You start moving slower, double-checking corners that were already checked twice, and flinching every time a pallet jack turns too quickly. And that's when it happened.

A forklift came barreling down a side aisle carrying a roll of carpet and attempted a sharp L-turn into the aisle directly in front of our booth. Several feet of the cardboard core from inside the carpet roll were sticking straight out in front of the forklift, forming a battering ram. The operator took the turn quickly and there was a dull thud, followed by a moment of stunned silence. Then I saw it: a clean, nearly symmetrical hole punched straight through the finished wall.

The operator stopped immediately and apologized, genuinely shaken by what had just happened. My first concern was structural. A puncture like this could compromise the integrity of any structure. But everything held firm.

The 1-foot hole went clean through into the storage closet behind it, and thankfully, the front graphics weren't shredded. They were just sort of absent.

The Copeland team was standing right there during the debacle, watching me carefully. I could practically see them deciding whether to panic based on my reaction, so I did the only thing I could do: I stayed calm. Plan B: The immediate problem was obvious. We had a hole where a wall and graphic used to be, and I needed to recreate a solid surface. So I tracked down show services and convinced them to give me a roll of double-stick carpet tape.

Back at the booth, I peeled the graphics from the damaged area and used a utility knife to cut out any compromised fiberboard. I cut a patch to match the opening and secured it with the carpet tape, creating a new backing surface. Then I reattached the graphics over the patch with the tape.

From a distance, the repair was acceptable. Up close, the tear lines where the graphics had separated were still visible. Better than a hole? Absolutely. Good enough for show opening? Not quite.

The graphic on that wall happened to depict a produce department, featuring soft-focus greens, peppers, carrots, and other blurred textures. That gave me an idea. Maybe I could stipple in the proper colors to hide those graphic tears.

So I sprinted to Target and bought a large assortment of Sharpies. Back at the booth, I leaned on my design background and carefully colored over the seams, using a stippling technique to mimic the blurred produce imagery.

What I didn't expect was how meditative the process would be. As I crouched in the booth with Sharpies scattered around me, I realized that sometimes we overlook the simplest tools. Sharpies weren't glamorous, but they were effective.

When I stepped back, the repair was barely noticeable. A trained eye might spot it, but not the average attendee.

About this same time, the forklift operator stopped by, offering us a free plant to help cover the area. I accepted and he returned with an 8-inch-tall plant in a 3-inch pot, which would do little to conceal the skewered area. We thanked him sincerely and quietly removed the plant.

The next morning, the booth opened without incident. Meetings happened, presentations ran smoothly, and not a single attendee commented on the wall. The crisis was officially over. However, the experience reinforced a few hard-earned lessons.

First, carpet tape is your friend, and Sharpies are wildly underrated. And second, never assume forklift operators are highly trained precision drivers. They're often powerful, well-meaning agents of chaos. During aisle-carpet installation, I now position myself between forklifts and the booth like a moving safety barrier sans the neon vest.

Finally, your best Plan Bs don't always arrive in a crate. Sometimes, they're cobbled together with leftover materials and a frantic Target run. E