I want to be a trusting soul and believe that all my vendors are doing what they are supposed to do. But there are times in the trade show industry when that just doesn't happen, and exhibit managers are left crying in their coffee at the end of the day. To make sure that's not me, I have no problem being a thorn in vendors' sides, even when it earns me the title Senorita of Trouble.

Several years ago, I was contracted to act as the director of market communications for a firm preparing to exhibit at the Cable Congress show in Madrid, and from my office in the United States, I was managing all the advance details. Among these tasks was ensuring that the company's 10-by-10-foot exhibit and collateral, which were being shipped to the FedEx office in Madrid, would be picked up by the show organizer's freight vendor.

Tracking confirmed that the freight arrived in Madrid nine days before the show opened, which was a week before load in. I contacted the freight receiver, which said it would send someone to get the shipment. I was scheduled to arrive in Madrid four days prior to show opening, so I assumed everything would be in my booth space ready for me to set up.

But eight days before the show I had a nagging feeling, so I called FedEx and learned that no, the shipment had not yet been picked up. I called the freight receiver again, and a representative assured me that someone was headed over to get it. This, however, was not the case.

For the next three days, I repeatedly got the same story, and my tone was becoming decidedly less congenial. And by the time I called the company's senior management to complain five days out, I was far less than understanding. In fact, my neighbor had a good friend who was Spanish, and I enlisted that person's help to make the call. So I was certain this company had no trouble understanding that my shipment had better be waiting at the venue when I arrived in Madrid the following day, so help me God.

The next day I was at the airport preparing to board my flight when I received a call from FedEx informing me that my shipment, which had not been picked up, was now on its way back to the United States. It would take five days, the person said, to turn around the cargo and route it back to Spain. To say I flipped out would be an understatement, kind of like calling an A-bomb a little explosion.

I pushed my flight back to a red-eye later that evening and went in search of my neighbor's Spanish-speaking friend. Thankfully he was available, and we spent the next two hours on the phone with show organizers, the freight receiver, and show management, lambasting them for this outrageous debacle. I also got back on the phone with FedEx and I begged, I pleaded, I promised to rename my children after them — anything to get that shipment back to Spain. I was in a full-scale panic, and either the customer-service rep took pity on me or she was afraid of me, but ultimately she said FedEx could expedite it and have it back to Spain in two days.

By the time my freight would arrive in my booth space at the venue, the show would have already begun. So while we could set it up the evening after opening day, we would spend the entire first day with no booth. The show was three days long, and though we only had a 10-by-10-foot display, it was a powerhouse marketing opportunity. So we had to find something to fill our booth space.

With five hours to kill before my nine-hour red-eye flight, I headed back to the airport and called my client and its creative shop. Thankfully, they were very cool about the situation. I asked the creative director to email PDFs of all the literature to me, as well as photos of the equipment we were supposed to be displaying in the booth.

I tried to find a copy shop in Madrid that would take my rush order but came up empty. In frustration, I called the boutique hotel where I would be staying and, using Google Translate, asked the front-desk person if he had any ideas. It turned out that the owner's brother ran a print shop, and he arranged for him to help me.

When I arrived in Madrid, I went directly to the print shop and ordered our collateral as well as easel-backed cardboard graphics of our products. I had signs made that said, "Our equipment looks great in print, wait until you see it in person." En route to the venue I also found a local chocolate shop and purchased some treats to hand out in the booth. The only exhibit items I'd hand-carried on the flight were logo-imprinted USB drives, and those, the chocolates, and my newly printed materials would be the entirety of what we would open the show with on day one.

At the convention center, I quickly beelined for the freight-receiving office. Given our rather testy phone exchanges, I knew that the reps had nicknamed me the Senorita of Trouble, and I was quite sure they were expecting me. Sidling up to the counter, I requested to speak with my customer-service agent, a man who had given me nothing but lip service for nine days and had now caused me a significant amount of grief.

The person behind the counter hesitated, and said that my customer-service rep would not be in the office for several days, but that a different agent could help me. She went into the back and emerged with a smiling, cherubic-looking young woman who also happened to be nine months pregnant. The tirade I'd been rehearsing crumbled like sand as this sweet woman stood there smiling and apologizing, and though I knew they'd played the ultimate dirty move on me, inside I had to laugh a little about the ninja customer-service technique in sending out the most sympathetic creature they could find.

When the show opened, I was perturbed to be running an exhibit without our products in it, but looking around, I realized it could have been worse. Several other exhibitors appeared to have had the same trouble I did with freight, except they had nothing but folding chairs in their booth spaces. My shipment arrived during the show's first day, and this time the freight handler picked it up. After a quick evening setup, we opened on day two with our display intact, and overall had a good show.

But by the time I left Madrid, I had learned several lessons: Don't take anyone's word for something that you can verify yourself, you can effectively manage a crisis from the airport, and when you really screw up, send out the pregnant woman.

— Jerry Rubin, owner, Bizbuilder canada.com, Winnipeg, MB, Canada