There are a few phrases in the trade show world that should probably come with a warning label.
Top of the list?
“It’ll be fine.”
In this industry, you can usually tell an epic story is coming the moment someone says it.
I’ve heard it whispered during late-night packing sessions, said confidently in planning meetings, and muttered under someone’s breath while staring at a loading dock that definitely does not look fine.
And sometimes it is fine.
But when it’s not?
That’s where the stories come from.
This one usually shows up right before something stops working.
The screen powered on yesterday.
The lights were fine last show.
The graphic fit the frame last time.
Cut to show morning.
A cord is missing. The remote is gone. The video is upside down. The screen is on, but it’s frozen on the company logo from 2019. No one knows the password. Everyone is staring at each other like someone else was supposed to handle this.
It’ll be fine… until it very much isn’t.
Said by someone who has never actually carried it in.
This usually applies to cases that look manageable until you’re halfway across a convention center, sweating through your shirt, realizing the handle placement was designed by someone who has never lifted a thing in their life.
Bonus points if it’s carpeted.
Extra bonus if there’s a turnstile.
Immediate chaos if labor rules apply and someone is suddenly yelling.
It’ll be fine is a bold statement when gravity, distance, and union regulations are involved.
Ah yes. The optimism phase.
This is often said when booth layouts haven’t been finalized, the floor plan was skimmed but not studied, or someone assumed the space would be “about the same” as last year.
On site turns into measuring tape panic.
Panic turns into rearranging furniture.
Rearranging turns into blocking a monitor with a table.
Blocking the monitor turns into pretending that was the plan all along.
We’ve all heard it said. Most of us have regretted it.
Until you do.
Until boxes appear that weren’t supposed to be there.
Until personal bags need somewhere to go.
Until giveaways multiply like gremlins.
Until coats show up. And snacks. And water bottles. And backup shoes.
Suddenly the exhibit looks less like a brand environment and more like a very public supply closet.
But hey. It’ll be fine.
This one is sneaky.
Small shows still have deadlines.
Small shows still have freight schedules.
Small shows still require decisions.
Sometimes they’re even trickier because everyone assumes less effort is required. That’s usually when details slip. Graphics arrive late. The layout feels cramped. The staff shows up unprepared because no one treated it like it mattered.
And then you’re standing there thinking, why does this feel harder than the big shows?
Because “small” does not mean simple.
This is my personal favorite. Next time turns into a year later.
A new team member is involved.
The same choices get made again.
The same problems reappear, slightly upgraded.
Somehow the broken latch is still broken.
The packing list still lives in someone’s head.
The notes from last year are nowhere to be found.
It’ll be fine becomes a tradition instead of a lesson.
Here’s the thing.
Most people saying “it’ll be fine” aren’t careless. They’re busy. They’re optimistic. They’re juggling a million decisions at once and trying not to overthink every single one.
And honestly, that confidence is part of what makes trade shows fun.
But the best moments I’ve seen on show floors don’t come from winging it. They come from the quiet confidence that shows up when someone already thought it through.
When the cases open easily.
When the graphics fit.
When the storage exists.
When no one is scrambling before the doors open.
After 25 years of working shows, I’ve learned that the goal isn’t to eliminate every surprise. That’s impossible. The goal is to build systems that leave room for them.
Because when the details are handled, the stories stay funny instead of stressful.
Anyone who’s spent time in this industry has been there. We’ve all heard the phrase. Sometimes it really was fine. Other times it became a story that still gets told.
If you’re planning a season where fewer things are left to chance, that’s when experience really starts to show. It’s also how we approach building exhibits at Nomadic Display. Ones designed to work show after show.
