Last year, I was hired to take control of an exhibit program at a company just seven weeks before its biggest annual show. Being the new kid on the block, I wanted to make a stellar impression on my bosses and my team. But earning that gold star turned out to be harder than I anticipated.

Restaurant365 LLC, a provider of restaurant-specific accounting and back-office software, was preparing for the National Restaurant Association Show. We had a 20-by-30-foot booth that was going to butt up to another firm's 20-by-40-foot exhibit, creating a conjoined 20-by-70-foot island. We'd coordinated with our neighbor to put our two 12-foot-wide storage closets back-to-back where the exhibits met to create a nice visual transition from our booth to theirs, which was nearer the entrance.

On Friday morning, the day before the expo was set to open, I hit the show floor and was startled by the 10-foot-wide aisle between our exhibit and our neighbor's. And instead of the mirroring closets, there was pipe and drape along the 20-foot width of our booth. Since the other stand was still being set up, I didn't give it too much thought, assuming it would be taken care of by the end of installation.

As the day progressed, I became alarmed when this mystery aisle didn't disappear and tracked down the conference coordinator for some answers. It turned out that the neighboring exhibitor altered its design and was now going with a 20-by-30-foot booth, with the remaining 10 feet used as an impromptu aisle that turned our stand into an island. I don't know why nobody informed us about the change, but one thing was certain: I wasn't going to allow that pipe-and-drape eyesore to be the first impression attendees had of our booth. So I immediately whisked that away, revealing the blank 10-by-12-foot red wall that was the back of our closet. And since that wall was now showcased at the front of the exhibit, it had become an unflattering focal point. I was now determined to turn this inauspicious development into an attractive opportunity.

I head scratched with John Moody, the company's co-founder, and we tossed around ideas ranging from installing a monitor to mounting a chalkboard and letting attendees doodle on it. While any of those options could have worked, I really wanted some way to turn this into an advantage that left an impression on attendees and wowed my superiors.

As I stood there staring at that blank canvas, a memory bubbled up from my past. At my previous job in San Francisco, my company had hired an artist to do some live graffiti during a client summit, which turned out to be a big hit. Maybe I could find a way to repurpose that magic for our own use.

Working through this thought with John, I pointed out that on Sunday, the second night of the four-day show, we were hosting a "Rock the Block" happy hour. The pre-show promotional materials featured brick-wall graphics and graffiti-style artwork – a perfect tie-in for having an on-site artist "vandalize" our wall as part of the festivities. And with no one the wiser, we could tell attendees that it was all part of the plan, making the blank wall look intentional. Granted, that would leave the dud of a structure in place for almost two full days of the show, but I felt the payoff would more than offset the drawback. John loved the idea, so now I had to find a graffiti artist – and fast.

Luckily we were in Chicago, so I figured I could locate a talented professional without roaming the train tracks in search of some teenage vandal. I hopped online and started scouring various art portals in search of local talent and posting on message boards that I was looking for an artist for Sunday evening.

Since using spray paint during show hours might be frowned upon, I was concerned that the conference coordinator wouldn't give us his blessing. I considered forging ahead anyway and asking for forgiveness instead of permission, but the angel on my shoulder won out. I tracked him down again to let him know our plans. And it was a stroke of good luck that I did. The coordinator felt bad about our turn of events – and for leaving us in the lurch by not informing us of our neighbor's altered footprint – and wanted to help. In no small coincidence, he had recently been to a restaurant in Chicago that had commissioned a graffiti artist to paint an entire wall. He said it was spectacular and told me he would try his best to track down the artist for us. In the meantime, I prepped my staffers with the new plan, praying that everything would fall into place.

At around 8 p.m., the conference coordinator got me the artist's contact info. Phew! I immediately called him up and learned that he was available. Over the next few hours, I worked up a few digital designs and emailed them to the artist late that night. Early the next morning, the artist let me know he'd be able to put his own spin on my creations. I readily agreed, relieved that things were coming together.

When we kicked off the Rock the Block party that evening, the artist let loose with his cans of spray paint, finishing the mural in the two hours of the happy hour and luring a sizable crowd. By the end of the reception, our unsightly wall was transformed into a one-off attraction.

As a bonus, show reps sent over a crew to document the activation, which appeared on the expo's social-media platforms and earned us a buffet of buzz. My management team loved how the artwork turned out, and we may incorporate the graffiti wall into our exhibit again this year. After only seven weeks on the job, I showed that I could handle curveballs with flexibility and creativity. In other words, I'd say I earned that gold star.