How to Succeed in Business Without Really Crying

How to Succeed in Business Without Really Crying

Carol Leifer

Language: English

Pages: 240

ISBN: 159474677X

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


For many years, television comedy was an exclusive all boys’ club—until a brilliant comedian named Carol Leifer came along, blazing a trail for funny women everywhere. From Late Night with David Letterman and Saturday Night Live to Seinfeld, The Ellen Show, and Modern Family, Carol has written for and/or performed on some of the best TV comedies of all time.
 
This hilarious collection of essays charts her extraordinary three-decade journey through show business, illuminating her many triumphs and some missteps along the way—and offering valuable lessons for women and men in any profession. Part memoir, part guide to life, and all incredibly funny, How to Succeed in Business without Really Crying offers tips and tricks for getting ahead, finding your way, and opening locked doors—even if you have to use a sledgehammer.

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powder? Anna and Seymour Leifer, the original comedy enthusiasts. And he taught us well, my pop. Living in our household was the best comedy education anyone could have. My parents constantly played the popular comedy records (yes, kids, I did say records) of the time: The 2000 Year Old Man by Mel Brooks and Carl Reiner, Alan Sherman’s My Son, the Nut (which included the hit “Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah”), The First Family by Vaughn Meader, various records by Mickey Katz (Joel Grey’s father, who

getting your head chopped off). I went to sleep-away camp and enjoyed being considered the funny girl of summer. And I loved winning the camp’s coveted Hammy Award, despite its non-Kosher status. In my heart, the Hammy rivals any of the big-time awards I’ve received as an adult. As I got older, I became a serious fan of I Love Lucy, and I would watch reruns religiously every night. I came to know every episode and was a walking encyclopedia of the show. It was my first glimpse of sitcoms, and it

your pocket earned simply from telling jokes. One night, it was the usual drill. I was set to meet the driver in front of the Improv at Forty-fourth and Ninth who’d take me out to one of these Jersey towns. This guy pulls up in a beat-up ’72 Duster. When I get in, I notice that the car has no rearview mirror. I became slightly alarmed, and I pointed it out to my driver. (I also use the word “driver” loosely. Five minutes ago, the “driver” was probably stealing this car.) The guy says to me,

I’ve never been to an opera in Jersey.) None of that mattered, though, because at the core of it all, I was just so happy doing what I love. I still perform at clubs around L.A. when I’m polishing up for a gig or trying out new material. And I don’t earn a dime for it—occasionally, they’ll give you something to eat if you’ve killed and they’ve got a kitchen. But there’s nothing better than standing onstage with a mike in your hand telling jokes. My love for it hasn’t changed from the first day I

time—guess what? It comes with the territory. In any business, male or female, Cloris Leachman or not Cloris Leachman. For example, I’ve written for the Academy Awards seven times, and I hope to do so many more times in the future. But do you think that every time the Academy people announce a new host, they just call me up and book me to write the show? Far from it. Each year I have to work tirelessly to get the gig again. And if I decided to do anything less, then that many more writers would

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