The Keynote That Almost Didn't Happen: A 47-Minute Run-of-Show Diary

This event was in October 2024. I will not name the client because they’re great and the rough day was nobody’s fault. But the run-of-show diary is real, lifted from my notebook, and I think it’s the most useful thing I’ve written this year for people who want to know what day-of looks like when nothing goes right.

The setup: 280-person customer kickoff event for a SaaS company. Venue was an industrial event space in Brooklyn. Doors at 6:00pm, keynote at 7:00pm, dinner at 8:00pm, dancing-and-bar until 11pm. Standard format. Everything was checked, double-checked, vendor-confirmed by 5pm the day before. I had spent two days on-site already.

What follows is the timeline of the 47 minutes between 5:13pm and 6:00pm. I cleaned the swearing.

5:13pm — The first text

CEO’s chief of staff: “FYI Marcus’s flight just got cancelled — they’re trying to rebook but it’s looking like 8:30pm earliest landing at LGA. Working on it.”

Marcus is the CEO. Marcus is the keynote at 7:00pm.

I texted back: “Understood — keep me posted, I’ll start contingency.”

I went to find the COO, who was on-site for the 5:30pm walk-through. I told her. She said: “Can he Zoom in?”

I said: “I have to check with AV.” This is the moment in any event where you find out whether your AV team built for hybrid or built for in-person only. We’d built for in-person only.

5:18pm — The loading dock

I’m walking from the back-of-house toward the AV bay when I hear something that I genuinely thought was a piece of equipment falling over. It wasn’t. The venue’s loading dock — the wooden ramp section that connects the alley to the rear door — had partially collapsed. Specifically: a 4×6 support post had snapped, and the ramp had dropped about 8 inches at the right edge.

The venue manager, Davide, was already standing there with a guy from the venue’s facilities team. Davide saw me and said, “Daisy. We need to talk. Don’t panic.”

I said: “What’s the load-bearing situation.”

He said: “It’ll hold pedestrian traffic. Won’t hold the catering carts.”

The catering team was due to do their final hot-food delivery in 23 minutes. Through this loading dock.

I texted the catering lead: “Loading dock down. Can your team carry hot pans through the front, around the building, in through the side door? Doors open in 42 minutes.”

She replied: “Yes but adds 15-20 min per trip. Will need 4 trips. Send me your service team to help.”

5:22pm — The AV text

AV company lead, Kennedy, texted: “Hey Daisy — I’m out sick. Bad. Vomiting since this morning. I sent Roland to take over but he’s coming from a setup in Queens, eta to you 5:50pm. Sorry.”

This is the moment I would normally have a feeling. I had no feeling. I just texted back: “Understood. Who’s onsite right now?”

She said: “Petra — junior engineer. Cap is competent on the board but has never run a keynote of this size.”

I went to find Petra. She was in the AV bay running cable checks. I introduced myself, asked her to walk me through the rig, and asked her: “If Roland doesn’t get here, can you run this show?”

She thought about it for 4 seconds and said: “I can run it if I have a producer riding shotgun. I can’t run it solo and also handle if something breaks.”

I said: “I will be your producer. Walk me through what I need to know.”

5:26pm — Three problems, three lanes

This is when I started a list. Lane 1: keynote (CEO not landing in time). Lane 2: catering (loading dock down). Lane 3: AV (lead engineer out, junior alone).

For each lane I needed: an owner, a contingency, a decision deadline.

I wrote on the back of my run-of-show:

• Lane 1: Owner = me. Contingency = pre-recorded video of Marcus delivering same talk, recorded 2 weeks prior for “rehearsal.” Decision deadline = 6:30pm (30 min before keynote).
• Lane 2: Owner = catering lead. Contingency = our service team helps carry. Decision deadline = ongoing.
• Lane 3: Owner = Petra + me as producer. Contingency = Roland arrives by 6:30pm.

5:31pm — The CEO call

Marcus’s chief of staff called me directly. Marcus was on the phone too.

Marcus said: “Daisy. What are my options.”

I said: “Two and a half. Option 1, you Zoom in from the airport — but our AV isn’t set for hybrid and we’d be hacking it together in 75 minutes. Risk is medium-high it doesn’t work. Option 2, we play your pre-recorded version of the talk and you do live Q&A from the airport for 10 minutes after — that’s lower risk. Option 2.5, we delay the keynote 60 minutes if you can land by 8pm and get to venue by 8:45pm. Then dinner is at 9:30pm and we lose an hour at the back end.”

Marcus said: “How does the audience read each option?”

I said: “Option 1 — they read it as live but rougher than usual. Option 2 — they read it as ‘we adapted, here’s a thoughtful prep’ and the live Q&A makes it personal. Option 2.5 — they read it as ‘something happened’ and we explain. Honestly your best brand option is 2.”

Marcus said: “Let’s do 2. Daisy, you good?”

I said: “Yes. I’ll loop in your CoS on the run-of-show changes.”

5:36pm — The catering update

Catering lead texted: “First trip in. Side door works. We’re going to be 12 min behind on hot food. Cold stations on time.”

I texted back: “Push hot service to 8:15pm? We can buffer with extended cocktail.”

She: “Yes works.”

I texted the bar lead: “Bar service extended cocktail to 8:15pm. Need an extra round of passed appetizers 7:35-8:05. Can you?”

Bar lead: “On it.”

5:41pm — The AV walk-through

Petra and I walked the AV rig together. I had her show me: where the audio mix was, where the slide advance was, where the camera control was, and what the “if everything dies, what do we do” plan was.

She showed me. I asked her to do a 90-second talk-through of the keynote: “We open on slide 1, you cue music to fade as Marcus walks on stage — wait, scratch that, there’s no Marcus. Let me re-cue this for the pre-recorded video.”

We re-built the keynote queue together for the pre-recorded video version. Took 8 minutes.

5:49pm — Roland arrives

Roland walked in carrying a coffee. He was in his work clothes which is what passes for “I rushed.”

He looked at the rig, at Petra, at me. He said: “What’s the plan?”

I said: “Pre-recorded keynote, live Q&A via Zoom from the CEO at the airport, our junior is running the board, you’re running the room. I’m producing. Doors in 11 minutes.”

He said: “Got it. Show me the queue.”

I walked him through the keynote queue. He nodded a lot. He said: “This is fine. Petra, you’re better than you think — just don’t rush the slide advances. I’ll handle the room mix.”

Petra exhaled audibly.

5:55pm — The chief of staff with an update

Marcus’s CoS texted: “Marcus is set up at the airport with iPhone + earbuds. Zoom link sent. He’s ready to come on for Q&A at 7:25pm.”

I confirmed.

5:58pm — Last walk-through

The COO came over. She said: “How are we?”

I said: “Pre-recorded keynote at 7:00. Marcus joins for Q&A at 7:25. Dinner pushed 15 minutes for hot food. Cold stations on time. Bar extended.”

She said: “What do I tell people about the loading dock?”

I said: “Nothing. They will not know.”

6:00pm — Doors open

People walked in. The cocktail hour ran. The keynote video played. The Q&A with Marcus on a Zoom call from LaGuardia worked — and the audience read it as authentic, because it was. Dinner served 18 minutes late but nobody timed it. The dancing-and-bar ran the full slot.

At 11:15pm, the COO came over to me with a glass of bourbon. She said: “I have no idea what happened today and I don’t want to know.”

I said: “Wise.”

What I learned

A few things that I’d already half-known and the day re-taught me:

1. You will get one to two rough days a year. The skill is not preventing them — it’s running the play in the 47 minutes when they happen.

2. The pre-recorded backup of the keynote is the most underrated insurance policy in events. Most CEOs hate doing it (it feels like prep that wastes their time). Make them do it anyway.

3. The catering team and the AV team usually rise to the moment. What they need from you is a clear contingency plan, not panic and not silence.

4. Find a quiet 90 seconds early in the chaos to think. I went into a back hallway between 5:18 and 5:22 and made the lanes-and-contingencies list. Those 4 minutes were the most important 4 minutes of the day.

5. The audience does not see most of what goes wrong. They see the show. They see the food. They see the energy. They do not see your text thread. Run the show, the show works.

6. A team that works the rough days well is worth more than a team that works the smooth days perfectly. Petra and Roland had never worked together before that night. They were the right people for the day because they responded the way they responded.

For the broader perspective on AV (and why hybrid is hard), see Hybrid Event AV: A Reality Check. For the contract clauses I scan to avoid amplifying day-of risk, see 11 Contract Red Flags.

If you’re about to plan a flagship event and want a second pair of eyes on the run-of-show, send it over. I’ll tell you the failure modes I see.