In peak Virtue impulsive fashion, we thought it would be genius to book our very first tradeshow stand at Autumn Fair Birmingham just two weeks before it started. Because why wouldn't we add maximum stress to our lives while pretending it's all part of the "creative process"?
With three people, three bags of products, and roughly three working brain cells between us, we set out to survive Autumn Fair. Spoiler alert: we did, barely.
The Pre-Show Marathon That Nearly Broke Us
Sixteen straight days of relentless work in Lisbon leading up to the fair. No days off, no breaks, and the kind of sleep deprivation where you start genuinely laughing at Excel formulas at 3am. We were in full startup mode, the kind where you survive entirely on stubbornness, caffeine, and the occasional stress cry in the bathroom.
Our last-minute panic purchase? AirTags for every bag. Because if even one went missing, our entire carefully sketched stand plan would've disintegrated faster than our sanity already was.
By the time we were ready to leave, we were exhausted, irritable, and snapping at each other over things like whether the blue pens should go in the left or right pocket of the display case. But somehow, we were still functioning, proof that human beings can run on fumes longer than anyone should reasonably expect.
Airport Hell: A Master Class in Murphy's Law
We arrived at Lisbon Airport a responsible 2.5+ hours early, feeling smugly prepared, only to be smacked in the face by chaos of epic proportions.
EU passport scanners? All broken. Major strikes? In full swing. The only thing standing between us and our flight? Two frazzled airport workers manually checking passports for what felt like half of Europe, one terrifyingly slow stamp at a time.
Everyone else in line seemed to have packed entire libraries for leisure reading. Meanwhile, we stood there with three checked bags full of products and the kind of sheer terror that only comes from knowing you've invested weeks of work and a frightening amount of money into something that could be derailed by broken technology and industrial action.
When an airport worker finally took pity on us and let us skip the queue, the entire line turned on us like we'd personally robbed them of their holiday savings. People were shouting, pointing, giving us looks that could've melted steel.
Did we feel bad? Not for a second. We weren't missing that flight, not after everything we'd already put ourselves through.
Welcome to Birmingham: Immediate Chaos
We landed in Birmingham with one mission: collect the stand furniture we'd cleverly shipped ahead to avoid exactly the kind of disaster we were about to walk into.
Picture this: we rock up to the collection point, confident and organised, only to have the woman behind the counter casually tell us, "Oh, your box? Yeah, it must've been picked up by the post office already."
Cue three people standing in stunned silence in the middle of a Costcutter, wondering if this was the universe's way of telling us to give up and go home.
Miraculously, and I mean divine intervention levels of miraculous, the box turned up in their storage room five minutes later. We walked out clutching it like Charlie with his golden ticket, stress levels now permanently elevated to "barely functional adult."
The Stand Hijacking Incident
At the NEC, we finally found our stand space, only to discover it had been completely hijacked. Three massive steel carts parked dead centre in our allocated area, coffee cups littered like the aftermath of a very caffeinated apocalypse, and the furniture we'd paid good money for left sticky and stained.
The wildest part? The Starbucks cups still had incriminating names on them. The culprits denied everything, of course, but they weren’t exactly trying to stay off the radar. ‘Truly outrageous’ barely scratches the surface, this was latte-level chaos.
Setup: Equal Parts Terror and Determination
As we started peeling stickers onto the walls and arranging products with obsessive precision, an existential dread crept in. Were we about to look like seasoned professionals, or like three adults who'd wandered into a 7th-grade science fair armed with poster board and glitter glue?
Thankfully, our obsessive centimetre-by-centimetre product placement plan, sketched out during one of those 3am planning sessions, kept us from descending into total chaos. The reality of the setup, though, was pure physical labor: lugging boxes, sticking things to walls, moving furniture around, all after being awake since 2am. Coffee wasn't just helpful at this point; it was the only thing keeping us upright and semi-coherent.
Accommodation: From Bad to Worse
After a full day of setup, we went to collect the keys for our accommodation, ready to collapse into actual beds. Naturally, the entry code didn't work. Multiple frantic phone calls later, we discovered they'd sent us the wrong code… for a property in France. Because of course they had.
We finally got into the Birmingham flat and instantly regretted every life choice that had led us there. Nothing like the photos, clearly hadn't been properly cleaned in years, and one of the bedrooms didn't even have a working light switch.
Our solution? Whiskey and an irresponsible amount of Nando's. Sometimes you just have to embrace the chaos and find comfort in chicken and alcohol.
The Fair Begins: Invisible Buyers and Caffeine Salvation
Sunday morning arrived with all the energy of a library at midnight. The promised 15,000+ buyers must've all been wearing invisibility cloaks, because between 9am and noon, we spoke to exactly zero people. We stood behind our carefully arranged display like three well-dressed mannequins, wondering if we'd accidentally stumbled into some sort of retail purgatory.
By the afternoon, though, things picked up. Real conversations started happening, quality leads began materialising, and for the first time in weeks, excitement started to outweigh the crushing stress.
Monday turned into our best day. Busier foot traffic, genuinely engaging conversations, and (most importantly) we discovered the best coffee spots in the NEC. The three of us developed a rotation system so no one would collapse mid-pitch, and it actually started feeling like we knew what we were doing.
The Reality Check Days
Tuesday brought the quiet again, and Wednesday was basically pack-up day disguised as "networking opportunities." Conversations with other exhibitors revealed the same universal shock: foot traffic was dramatically down compared to previous years. Apparently, we weren't the only ones wondering where everyone had gone.
Despite all the chaos, unexpected disasters, and general mayhem, our stand still managed to pull in solid leads and genuine interest. Proof that even with two weeks' preparation time and an endless series of crises, good planning and sheer determination can still pay off.
Limping Home: Battered But Victorious
We limped back to Lisbon with blisters on our feet, bodies that felt like they'd been through a washing machine, and suitcases that had clearly seen better days. But we were still standing, still proud of what we'd accomplished, and already planning how to do it better next time.
Things we'd definitely change: add proper storage, invest in stronger lighting to really make our products shine, and find velcro that doesn't give up on life after five minutes of use.
For a first-ever tradeshow, booked at the absolute last minute and fuelled entirely by adrenaline and stubborn refusal to quit, it genuinely felt like a win.
And of course, after 21 straight days of non-stop work, what did we do the very next morning? Sat back down at our desks to send follow-up emails to every lead we'd collected.
What can I say, we love what we do, even if all three of us are now definitively sharing a single brain cell between us. But hey, we wouldn't have it any other way.