When 'Probably In Stock' Isn't a Supply Chain Plan: A 36-Hour Epoxy Rescue

The Call That Started at 4:47 PM

It was 4:47 on a Thursday afternoon when my phone buzzed. I almost didn't pick up—I was buried in paperwork, and the number wasn't familiar. But something made me answer.

"Is this the emergency supply line?" the caller asked. Her name was Rachel, and she was a procurement manager for an industrial flooring contractor. Her voice had that tight, controlled edge that I've learned to recognize: she was dealing with a problem that had a clock on it.

Here's the setup. Rachel's crew was scheduled to pour a non slip epoxy coating for concrete floors at a distribution center the next morning at 9:00 AM. The supplier she'd used for years—a smaller chemical distributor—had just called to say they were out of stock on the polyamide curing agent that makes epoxy harden. Without it, the coating wouldn't cure. No cure meant no install. And no install meant a $15,000 penalty clause, plus the very real chance of losing a major contract.

I told her to give me five minutes.

In my role coordinating emergency deliveries for Kemira chemical products, I've handled more than 200 rush orders in the last eight years, including same-day turnarounds for water treatment plants and coating manufacturers. The key is having a clear picture of where inventory sits—and that's where Kemira's global footprint shines. I pulled up the inventory system and found exactly what she needed: a drum of the curing agent sitting in one of the Kemira chemicals locations in Ohio. The list of Kemira chemicals locations is something I check almost daily; today, it was the difference between a problem and a crisis.

"I can get it to you by midnight," I said. "But the freight's going to cost extra. About $400 above the base price."

The line went quiet. I waited. This is the moment where I always see the same battle happen inside a buyer's head: budget versus risk.

"Can we use acetone to strip the old clear coat and then just reapply?" Rachel asked. "Will acetone remove clear coat? I remember reading something about it."

Ah, the acetone question. It comes up so often in coating emergencies that I could write a book. Yes, acetone will remove clear coat—that's the problem. It doesn't remove it cleanly. It softens the old film, leaves a greasy residue, and makes the new epoxy coating for the concrete bond poorly. You'd be back to a failed floor within a month. Acetone is for cleaning tools, not for prepping a surface that needs to survive industrial pallet jacks.

"No way around the prep," I said. "You need to grind or wash that floor properly. But that's a separate issue. The chemical delivery is the bottleneck right now, and I can solve it if you authorize the rush fee."

She still hesitated. "We're already over budget. The client squeezed us on this job."

I understood. But I've also seen what happens when you trade certainty for the sake of a few hundred dollars. In March 2023, a different client lost a $42,000 contract because they tried to save $300 on standard shipping instead of air freight. The delay triggered a penalty that ate any savings—and then some. That vendor failure changed how I think about backup planning. Now, I'd rather pay for guaranteed delivery than gamble on hope.

The numbers said it plainly. Even with the $400 rush fee and a potential overnight rental, she was looking at maybe $600 in extra costs. The penalty for missing the deadline was $15,000. That's a 25x difference. You don't need a finance degree to make that call.

"If we don't get it by 9 AM, we lose the contract," Rachel eventually said. "Fine. Do it."

And that's when the real work began.

The 10:12 PM Phone Call

I called Dave, the plant manager at our Ohio location. He pulled two technicians off a non-urgent line to stage the order. A truck left at 6:30 PM with the drum secure in the back. Estimated arrival: 11:45 PM. Plenty of time, I thought.

Then, at 10:12 PM, my dispatcher called with four words I hate: "Tire blew out."

The truck was stranded on an interstate exit, still two hours from the job site. We had no backup truck in that corridor. The only other Kemira location with the product was six hours away—too late.

I had a choice. Let the client down and watch her lose a contract, or get creative.

I rented a cargo van from an airport lot at 10:48 PM. Drove forty miles to the stranded truck. Transferred the drum by hand—it weighed about 500 pounds, so the driver and I muscled it onto a hand truck and up the ramp. I signed the rental waiver, told the driver to call me when he got back to the plant, and got behind the wheel.

For what it's worth, I'm not a professional driver. But I've done this enough times that I know the trick: keep the drum strapped, take turns wide, and watch for anything that looks like a speed bump. I rolled into the parking lot of the distribution center at 4:55 AM. The sun wasn't up yet. The installer was just pulling in with his crew.

"You're the chemical guy?" he asked. I nodded. He didn't ask why I looked like I'd been up all night. He signed for the drum, mixed his batch, and started applying the non slip epoxy coating to the concrete by 7 AM. The floor was finished by 11:30 AM, perfectly within the window.

Rachel called me later that day, sounding like a completely different person than the one I'd heard the previous afternoon. "I've never paid a $400 rush fee with so much relief," she said.

That got me thinking. This wasn't a lucky break. It was a system. Kemira's production and warehousing locations span multiple states, which means a shortage in one region can be covered by another. As a procurement professional, you can't replicate that with a local distributor. The question is whether you've built the relationship before you need it.

What the Rescue Taught Me

When I looked at our order data over the past year, the pattern was unmistakable. Rush fees—whether it's for a non slip epoxy coating, an HVOF coating on a pump shaft, or a polymer for a water treatment plant—always feel like a waste of money until the moment they save you. The real problem isn't the cost of speed; it's the cost of uncertainty. "Probably in stock" isn't a supply chain plan. It's a hope.

I've become the person who asks one question before every new client relationship: "When you absolutely can't fail, what's your backup?" If they don't have an answer, that's where I start. Because in specialty chemicals, the promise that matters most isn't the price per gallon. It's the answer to "will it be here when I need it?"

Yes, that promise costs extra. But not as much as the alternative.