It is no wonder that many Canadian businesses are reluctant to export abroad. Having helped companies enter foreign markets for many years, I am all too aware of the challenges and risks that come with the opportunities in a new market.

There are a lot of good reasons to export, but it is important to be properly prepared before you begin. Over the coming months I will write a column for CanadaOne, based on my e-book, 15 Steps to Selling Internationally. To get started, let me share a story that shows that no matter how ready you are, you must also be prepared for the unexpected.

My story took place on a trip to Australia several years ago.

Like many whirlwind trips abroad, I started in Sydney, moved on to Melbourne and was scheduled to fly to Tasmania, where I would meet with mining engineers later in the day.

The day began like any other, with a shower. Without thinking I opened the fresh package of laundry from the previous hotel in Sydney. That is when I discovered, to my horror, that that I had received the wrong shirts, socks and - shudder - underwear from the hotel laundry service.

I reluctantly peered at the unfamiliar design of the boxers, holding them with the paper wrapping between my fingertips and the fabric. I wondered who would own such pathetic, droopy, items. "How would those hideous, stretched-out socks ever stay up?" And the underwear didn't bear thinking about.

Of course, when traveling abroad you don't do laundry very often. You try to be efficient, waiting until almost everything you brought with you needs to be cleaned. In other words, I did not have much, if any, clothing of my own to wear. After a panicked scramble I did find a few things that would soon become my new favourites.

No problem. I would wear these until I landed in Melbourne, where I could stop in a men's clothing shop before meeting up with the engineers.

As the saying goes, "the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray."

Imagine my discomfort when I was met at the airport by the mining engineers, who announced that we would drive directly to the mine site. Now, these guys were Australians. Tough, macho, outback-mining-type Australians. Would Crocodile Dundee say "Hey, guys, I was hoping to do a little clothes shopping"? I don't think so.

So now I was watching my laundry supply closely, calculating the most expedient use of resources.

For those taking notes: (1) yes, shampoo is a reasonably good detergent; (2) some items will dry overnight, especially if they have been rolled in a bath towel; and (3) underwear that didn't quite dry on the shower rail will dry on you, but in the process will wrinkle your trousers beyond belief. And there were tradeoffs to consider, including deciding which is preferable for the wrap up dinner with the CEO: a clean but wrinkled shirt, or a second-day shirt with a bit of a press remaining?

Meanwhile, it was infuriating to continue to lug around the alien laundry.

On my second day I finally had a chance to call the hotel in Sydney to inform them of the mistake.

"Why, Mr. Aacha!" (it took me a minute to recognize the Australian pronunciation of my last name, although I was accustomed to "Dive"). He continued in a reproachful tone, "the other gentleman is quite concerned about his knickers. Can you airbag them over straight away?"

Well, I tried. I really tried. I'm Canadian; we're known around the world as being nice folks. Also, I'm in sales: who knows when somebody might be a customer? And I knew too well how the other guy must have felt. So I parceled up the foreign undies and gave them, with what I thought were very clear directions (and a nice tip) to the desk clerk at the hotel.

No go.

The clerk found me later that day and explained it had been too late in the day for a pick-up from Australia Post and delivery time was going to be at least three days.

I moaned: "No, not the post office! I specifically asked you to courier it".

You see I should've said "airbag", which is what couriers are called in Australia – another cultural difference. The lesson for would be exporters? Use the local terminology!

Trying not to take my growing frustration out on a friendly but new-to-the-job Tasmanian desk clerk, I took the items back intending to send them from the Melbourne airport.

By now the Sydney hotel had my cell phone number, and was leaving at least two messages a day:

"Mr. Aacha, we still haven't received the...um...package. Can you please advise the status?"

I finally called the hotel back, and they informed me that the guest has moved on to Brisbane, via Ansett Airlines.

"Perfect!" I said, "I'll be there tomorrow". I was still trying to do the right thing, especially since the hotel still had my gear, and I wasn't staying in one place long enough for them to send it to me. With so much time and effort invested so far, I was determined to carry this through to its conclusion.

I arrived in Brisbane the next day, and by now was really anxious to get this ridiculous situation resolved. When I landed I went immediately to the Ansett Airlines customer service desk, held out the now tattered and taped paper bag, and asked where I could leave a package for someone to pick up.

"I'm sorry, you can't", came the loud and officious reply. "Can't what?" "Leave a package". "Why not?!" "Security reasons ... what's in it, anyway?"

I blurted out "Someone's bloody socks and underwear!" as the entire desk staff and all passengers within earshot stopped talking and reacted with expressions ranging from shock to pity to furtive amusement.

I fled down the concourse, feeling ridiculously embarrassed that every person in the Brisbane domestic terminal now knew what I clutched under my arm. My paranoia wasn't helped by the laughter behind me.

Then I thought, "That's it. I've had enough. This stuff is out of here". Just then my mobile phone rang. It was the hotel in Sydney.

"Mr Aacha. Have you arrived in Brisbane yet?"

"Yes I have. And you know what else? Right now I'm looking at some nice thick tropical bushes outside the terminal and I'm going to throw this guy's stuff in them because I've got a flight to catch in fifteen minutes. I've been dragging this guy's gear through four states in the last week, and I've had enough!"

I switched my phone into my left hand, and in anticipation moved the paper bag of laundry into my throwing hand, ready to let go a long bomb into the palms.

"But is there a taxi nearby? You could send it to the hotel our guest is now staying" she insisted.

I paused as a Black & White cab approached. Empty, looking for his next fare.

"Hang on. Hey, you want to take a package to a hotel?" I yelled at the slowing driver.

"Which hotel, mate?" he asked.

"Which hotel?" I asked the patient woman on the phone in Sydney.

"He's staying at the Holiday Inn Downtown" she replied. "Holiday Inn Downtown. You know where it is?"

"Yeah, mate. Sixteen bucks".

"It's sixteen bucks" I repeated. "That'll be fine", replied a relieved hotel representative.

I passed the package through the formerly bored driver's window, as he looked forward to an easy, maybe even exotic fare.

"What is it, anyway, mate?" he asked eagerly.

"Socks and underwear. Good luck". His expression was crestfallen as he took the package with a minimum of contact between his index finger and thumb (I knew the feeling). But I was free at last, and rushed off to catch my plane.

I hope the other guy appreciated finally receiving his unmentionables, and was somehow aware of the tribulations I had endured on his behalf. I certainly did treasure my belongings when we were finally reunited.

Now, many years later I smile when I remember this story. But at the time, in a foreign country with a lot of time and money tied up in a prospective business deal, I wasn't thrilled about encountering any distractions that could impede my ability to get the job done – especially an issue over socks and underwear!

I'm pleased to be a columnist for CanadaOne. I've started with an account of one of my many interesting experiences doing business internationally that is more humorous than insightful. I hope you tune in over the coming months as I share more interesting perspectives – advantages and pitfalls, success stories and disasters – on exporting Canadian products around the world that we can all learn from!

Selling internationally is for fun and profit – get out there!