The Understudy Exhibit
The stage had been set. Well over a month before my client’s 10-by-10-foot pop-up exhibit would appear at the Career College Association Convention (CCA) 2007 in New Orleans, I had the exhibit prepped and ready to hit its mark for the upcoming show. But before I could tell her to break a leg, a nearly show-stopping shipping snafu required me to re-script our show preparations and call in an understudy.

My client’s pop-up exhibit was scheduled to be picked up from my exhibit house in Phoenix about two weeks before CCA and shipped to a warehouse in New Orleans, where it would be stored until the show began. A week before the show, I verified that the exhibit had been picked up, and I called my shipper to make sure it had arrived at the warehouse on time. And that’s when the drama started.

As it turned out, my client had written the convention center’s address, rather than the warehouse’s, on the shipping forms. The exhibit had arrived at the convention center safe and sound, but given its early and improper method of arrival, the convention center had refused to accept it. That meant the shipper was returning the booth to me, in Phoenix.

With a week to go before the show, I figured there would be plenty of time to reroute the exhibit to the warehouse. So I immediately supplied the shipper with the proper address for the warehouse in New Orleans. Just to be on the safe side, I called the shipper again the next day and confirmed that the exhibit was en route to the correct destination.

Sufficiently satisfied, I didn’t give it a second thought until two days before the show when I called the shipper again to verify the exhibit’s location. While the rep tried to assure me that the exhibit was en route to the warehouse and would be arriving shortly, I was developing pre-show jitters. It just seemed odd that the pop-up hadn’t popped up at the warehouse by now.

The next morning, which was the day before the show, I wanted more than the rep’s reassurance: I wanted certainty that my client’s exhibit was at the warehouse ready for its curtain call. However, when I called the shipper one last time, what I got wasn’t certainty; it was full-blown panic.

The rep told me my client’s exhibit was nowhere near the show’s warehouse, the convention center, or even New Orleans. It was being rerouted back to my exhibit house in Phoenix. Somehow, even though I had provided the proper address to everyone involved — and verified it several times — the transportation company had bungled the shipment, like high-school actors delivering Shakespearean lines.

Instead of heading to the warehouse in New Orleans, my client’s exhibit was speeding across the country — in the wrong direction. That meant I’d not only have to find her another exhibit, but also get it from Phoenix to New Orleans in less than 24 hours.

Despite my troubles, I knew the show must go on. So I steadied my panicky voice, called my client, and relayed the news. After a short conversation, I discovered that my client was just now on her way to the airport, so it would still be possible for her to board the plane with a replacement exhibit in tow. That was the good news. The bad news, however, was that I only had a mere 90 minutes to find a substitute pop-up, pack it into shipping cases, drive it to the airport, and deliver it to her. Thankfully, our office was only 10 minutes from the airport, but I’d still be cutting it razor close.

Luckily, my client had shipped her graphics separately, so I only had to assemble and transport the pop-up. Thus, I threw the lighting, walls, and other structures she’d need into two shipping cases, hauled them to my car, and sped off to the airport — all in just over an hour.

But, before I could save the day, the script threw me one more plot twist. Since I had never met my client face to face, I had no idea what she looked like. In a sea of people at a busy airport, descriptions like “the one in the white shirt with brown hair” won’t take you very far. At the height of panic and exhaustion, I battled the 100-degree Phoenix heat trying to track her down. Finally, like two long-parted lovers reuniting in baggage claim, we located each other, and I gladly handed over the cases.

Though she wasn’t happy about the extra $25 weight charge she had to pay for each shipping case, the rest of the show went as scripted: My client boarded her plane just in time and arrived at the show on schedule with her exhibit. After she returned, my company offered her a free rental to make up for the stressful situation.

My dramatic experience taught me two valuable lessons: 1) Track your exhibit through every stage in the game, and 2) always have a contingency plan — or an alternate exhibit waiting in the wings.

— Sue Marshall, display consultant, Exhibit Experts Inc., Phoenix