Trial by Fire

After 18 years as a paralegal, I started to get the itch to add a little excitement to my life. So when Fort Dodge Animal Health wanted someone to head up a new trade show division, I knew it was the opening for which I'd been yearning. After all, I am incredibly organized, and I'd been with Fort Dodge for five years as a paralegal, so I knew the company well - this position would be perfect for me.

Don't get me wrong. I didn't know a thing about the trade show business when I applied for the job. But since the position was just created, I thought we'd grow together, the trade show program and I. Until that point, the company's trade shows had been organized by someone who wedged those duties into an already full job description. But with more than 40 national trade shows a year and hundreds of smaller local shows, the company's exhibit-marketing responsibilities were certainly large enough to warrant a new full-time position.

My optimism that I was the right person for the task must have been persuasive, because I got the job. So my first day in my new position, I sat down at my nice, clean desk with a cup of coffee in my hand and surveyed my surroundings, feeling like I was on top of my game and wondering where I would start on this exciting learning journey. My musing was interrupted by the phone ringing, and it was with a swell of pride that I answered my first call as an exhibit manager.

Dr. Gary Stamp, the show organizer of the International Veterinary Emergency and Critical Care Symposium in Tampa, FL, was on the other end of the line. We exchanged pleasantries, and I told him it was my first day on the job, after which his tone changed to slightly apologetic. He had a little problem at the venue, he said, and hoped I could help.

It seemed Fort Dodge had a 10-by-20-foot exhibit delivered to the show that had been set up by a contracted labor crew. "But the show floor opened an hour ago, and there is nobody in your booth," Stamp told me. Instead, all the literature boxes were sitting in the center waiting to be unpacked, and attendees were wandering in and out with curious stares.

If I'd had any coffee in my mouth, I'm sure I would have spit it out. I'd only been on the job for a couple of hours, and already there was a problem.

Five years at Fort Dodge had given me enough familiarity with the company to know we had representatives in the Tampa area, so I got on the phone immediately to see if I could get someone over to the show. I was in luck. Bill Schaeffer, a regional manager based in Tampa, picked up almost right away, and started to congratulate me after I introduced myself. I interrupted him, "Yeah thanks, but forget that right now," I said, spilling out the story about the vacant exhibit space on the show floor. "Oh no," Schaeffer said. "This is not the first time this has happened."

He proceeded to tell me that on a number of occasions, the previous exhibit manager had apparently forgotten to tell the sales staff or the display house responsible for shipping out exhibits - or both - that he had purchased booth space at a show. My mouth went dry. With seven corporate exhibit properties, there was no telling how many runaway trains were out there, or how many more calls I was going to get today.

Schaeffer said he could be in the empty Tampa booth within two hours, but my relief was only about a heartbeat long, because I knew that this was likely the tip of the chaos iceberg. Having thoroughly scoured my desk after I hung up the phone, I discovered that there wasn't a trade show calendar left behind for me, and in fact, there was nothing at all. Before leaving, the previous exhibit manager (and I use the term loosely) had apparently thrown away every piece of information about upcoming trade shows on his way out the door.

This exciting new job had just gotten a little too exciting, and I wasn't even sure how to start getting a grip on the mess I'd inherited. I looked at my empty cup. This was definitely going to require some more coffee.

It turned out that being a coffee drinker saved me, because it was in the break room where I encountered a gal from accounting who had the answer to my dilemma. "The only way you're in a trade show," she said, "is if we issued a payment for the space contract." Aha. Good point.

With that little kernel of hope, I poured over the reports she printed for me, looking for the trade show code on expenditures. From that I pieced together a calendar - discovering that our next show was scheduled for the following week. I called our exhibit house, and a rep confirmed that it had orders to ship a 20-by-20-foot exhibit to that show. A display that size would typically have four staffers in it, but when I checked with the sales managers, they had no idea we were even exhibiting in the show.

I found another show we were signed up for a week after that, and the sales staff was actually aware of that one. However, the exhibit house hadn't heard a peep about it. Many other shows had a similar story, and as I lit up the phone with call after call that day, I was having serious misgivings. I gave up a secure paralegal career for this. Had I gone completely crazy?

I knew that the key to my survival was getting the trade show calendar put together quickly, but I had salespeople, exhibit-house reps, and show managers to track down, and then I had to piece together what each knew. It was like putting together a gigantic jigsaw puzzle as fast as possible without knowing what the picture was supposed to look like.

For the trade shows that were right around the corner, we had missed all sorts of deadlines - for badge lists and decorators and service kits - and I didn't even know what most of that stuff meant. I'd never been to a trade show in my life, but I certainly was getting a crash course. Armed with a calendar of upcoming industry shows, I applied three questions to each event: 1. Are we signed up for this show already? 2. If we are not, should we be? 3. If we are, does
anyone know about it?

Though the learning curve was steeper than I had imagined, eventually I wrangled the beast - creating a dependable trade show calendar and later even becoming a master in the field thanks to my bronze Certified Trade Show Marketer designation. However, my very first day on the job taught me an important lesson: When disaster strikes, take a deep breath and then go grab another cup of coffee.

- Susan Bartlett, CTSM (Bronze Level), president, Crossroads Event Management, Overland Park, KS