Any exhibit manager can tell you it's important to take a little pride in your work if you hope to avoid burnout – and confidently complete the job. But bragging about being great at the job is sure to jinx you to your knees, where you'll sit feeling like you got sucker punched by the forces of chaos and then handed a slice of humble pie.

Earlier this year, I had just such a lesson, which started with a successful and problem-free appearance for my company at World of Concrete (WOC). Over drinks with a friend a few weeks later, I boasted about how well everything had gone and bragged that juggling seven or eight shows at a time is a breeze if you are organized like I am. The "exhibit gods" must have had a pretty good laugh over that one, because at my very next show – The Rental Show in Orlando, FL – nearly everything went wrong.

Since I had several other trade shows happening around the country at the same time, components of the WOC booth had been parceled out to five different destinations when that exhibit was dismantled. Some of those pieces were destined for The Rental Show, and other pieces of the booth were coming from our warehouse in Olathe, KS.

Just before traveling to Orlando to supervise install, I learned that our scheduled carrier had not picked up the crates as planned at the WOC, which had been in Las Vegas. So I'd either have to incur expedited charges to the tune of $4,000 to get the crates to The Rental Show in time, or make do without the components inside. My mind went to the half of our reception counter we'd be missing, and I mulled over how we might be able to make the display passable without it. Ultimately, I told my sales manager that, for a savings of $4,000, I could find a way to make it work.

It wasn't until I was unpacking crates in my space at The Rental Show that it dawned on me that the errant crates also contained our hanging sign and two wall units. Half of a reception counter missing was one thing, but there would be no working around missing sections of our wall and sign. So my mind started working at warp speed trying to come up with a solution.

A call to our company warehouse confirmed that all of our wall sections were out at our various shows. But the warehouse manager ingeniously suggested we contact one of our facilities in South Carolina, where two sections of wall were part of a display in the showroom. The director of that facility offered to drive them down to me, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief that I had been at least partially saved from disaster.

As for the hanging sign, I assured the sales manager when I called to apprise him of the situation that the 16-foot-tall towers we had in the display were as high as the sign would have been, so our brand would still get visibility across the show floor. He wasn't happy, but he was glad I was coming up with solutions.

Little did I know, I was nowhere near being out of the woods. During install, workers noted that all of the pedestals that were on their list to be assembled were MIA. Pedestals? Sweet lord. I assumed we must have been missing a crate, so I headed to show services to inquire about the rest of our freight. The clerk checked and rechecked before giving me the most dreaded answer possible: "You don't have any more freight."

I sat down with my show notebook and pored over it. It was so neatly laid out, so many lists and notes and pages because I am so organized. How could all of this be happening to me? But there it was on the list – one green case containing pedestals, marked for shipment from the WOC back to Kansas, not to Orlando. It was about time for a good cry. But before I could do that, I had to head back to show services to eat crow and order some rented pedestals.

The phone call on this one back to my sales manager was not fun. I told him I'd solved the problem by renting pedestals, yay me, but I could tell he was weary from fretting over a show that sounded like it was falling apart. I assured him that the event would go on swimmingly.

Too bad that wasn't true. As I dug through the boxes piled up in the exhibit, I realized that the one containing our fliers and sales forms was not there. Forget crying – now it was time to start wrecking stuff. With a call back to the office I learned that the graphics designer had not sent them to the printer because somewhere along the way, someone had suggested to him that we didn't need them.

I had no feeling in my fingers as I dialed the sales manager's phone number this time, and I was thinking about how long it would take me to update my résumé as I waited for the call to connect. I'm not going to lie – he freaked out when I told him of the latest disaster, but who could blame him? I was freaking out, too.

I knew I had to keep it together and solve this mishap calmly, so I had the graphics designer email the files to me, and found a FedEx Office that would print them on short notice. After spending the entire installation window putting out fires, I had a newfound humility when the trade show opened a couple of days later, and I thanked my lucky stars for every little thing that went right after that. I emerged from the experience still employed, which was a relief, and with better-honed organizational skills that included never, ever assuming the pieces were in place for a show until I actually saw the pieces in place at the show. And now I avoid bragging about success at all costs, because I learned that I really don't care for the taste of humble pie.

— Denice Posey, project manager and marketing communications, Husqvarna AB, Olathe, KS