e dangers of what they’ll disclose, by crowing about their success to lean and mean MBA candidates, and to their always malnourished professors, I don’t think the ledger balances.

The publicity isn’t worth the risk; even if they think they’ll recruit indentured servants, also know as interns.

I conducted nationwide seminars in my

When I was a kid, we used to play a game of stealth around the schoolyard. We called it, “Ditch.”

Sometimes, we played in teams, and sometimes, as individual players. It was really hide-and-seek, but a “special forces” version. We tried to find the most obscure holes in which to hide, or the highest perches in trees, and on occasion, we even scaled Spanish tile rooftops, and hid behind chimneys.

Anyway, we’d sneak up on each other, and say, gotcha, or you’re dead, or some other delightful thing. There was always a temptation to shout it out, because victory is exhilarating, but if we did, we’d give away our own locations.

So, we muffled our giggles, and stifled our shouts.

And this is exactly what we should do when we’re achieving a breakthrough in business.

I’ve had my share, and I’ve found it really pays to fly under the radar as long as you can, undetected, instead of dropping publicity posters proclaiming how smart you are.

Why give a heads-up to potential competitors about where the gold is buried?

Yet, this is an all too real temptation.

Today, for instance, I received an invitation from my MBA Alma Mater about a program that is being put on by a company whose product is featured at Starbuck’s. Good for them, I say; they got distribution.

But if you balance what they can get from speaking, with the dangers of what they’ll disclose, by crowing about their success to lean and mean MBA candidates, and to their always malnourished professors, I don’t think the ledger balances.

The publicity isn’t worth the risk; even if they think they’ll recruit indentured servants, also know as interns.

I conducted nationwide seminars in my f

even scaled Spanish tile rooftops, and hid behind chimneys.

Anyway, we’d sneak up on each other, and say, gotcha, or you’re dead, or some other delightful thing. There was always a temptation to shout it out, because victory is exhilarating, but if we did, we’d give away our own locations.

So, we muffled our giggles, and stifled our shouts.

And this is exactly what we should do when we’re achieving a breakthrough in business.

I’ve had my share, and I’ve found it really pays to fly under the radar as long as you can, undetected, instead of dropping publicity posters proclaiming how smart you are.

Why give a heads-up to potential competitors about where the gold is buried?

Yet, this is an all too real temptation.

Today, for instance, I received an invitation from my MBA Alma Mater about a program that is being put on by a company whose product is featured at Starbuck’s. Good for them, I say; they got distribution.

But if you balance what they can get from speaking, with the dangers of what they’ll disclose, by crowing about their success to lean and mean MBA candidates, and to their always malnourished professors, I don’t think the ledger balances.

The publicity isn’t worth the risk; even if they think they’ll recruit indentured servants, also know as interns.

I conducted nationwide seminars in my

ur shouts.

And this is exactly what we should do when we’re achieving a breakthrough in business.

I’ve had my share, and I’ve found it really pays to fly under the radar as long as you can, undetected, instead of dropping publicity posters proclaiming how smart you are.

Why give a heads-up to potential competitors about where the gold is buried?

Yet, this is an all too real temptation.

Today, for instance, I received an invitation from my MBA Alma Mater about a program that is being put on by a company whose product is featured at Starbuck’s. Good for them, I say; they got distribution.

But if you balance what they can get from speaking, with the dangers of what they’ll disclose, by crowing about their success to lean and mean MBA candidates, and to their always malnourished professors, I don’t think the ledger balances.

The publicity isn’t worth the risk; even if they think they’ll recruit indentured servants, also know as interns.

I conducted nationwide seminars in my

e the gold is buried?

Yet, this is an all too real temptation.

Today, for instance, I received an invitation from my MBA Alma Mater about a program that is being put on by a company whose product is featured at Starbuck’s. Good for them, I say; they got distribution.

But if you balance what they can get from speaking, with the dangers of what they’ll disclose, by crowing about their success to lean and mean MBA candidates, and to their always malnourished professors, I don’t think the ledger balances.

The publicity isn’t worth the risk; even if they think they’ll recruit indentured servants, also know as interns.

I conducted nationwide seminars in my

e dangers of what they’ll disclose, by crowing about their success to lean and mean MBA candidates, and to their always malnourished professors, I don’t think the ledger balances.

The publicity isn’t worth the risk; even if they think they’ll recruit indentured servants, also know as interns.

I conducted nationwide seminars in my field, and looking back on them, I know now that they contained far too much information. I launched the careers of at least two competitors I know of, and there’s no question they siphoned off a significant amount of business that would have flowed my way.

So, by all means, go out there and succeed. But keep your voice down, and don’t take any premature curtain calls. There will be ample time for those in retirement.

Otherwise, someone may sneak up on you and say, “Gotcha!”