When I was a kid, Dad took the Long Island Railroad to his office in Manhattan every weekday. Later, when I was ten, he turned our garage into an office so that he could also see patients when he got home. (So much for my siblings and me starting a garage band.) It was, needless to say, a long day—patients all day in the city, and then three or four more at night. Some on Saturdays, too. Yet I don’t remember him ever complaining. Well, at least not about work. The guy that sliced the lox down at the deli, that was another story. Anyway, even though it often meant he barely had time to grab a lamb chop with us for dinner, as soon as the office doorbell rang, Dad was off to work.
I don’t think my father ever missed a day of work in his life. But when I look back, it’s really no surprise. He truly loved what he did. He loved to tell stories about the various clueless types he encountered, like when he’d ask a patient to read the eye chart and the person would respond “Out loud?” Or the patients who would read the eye chart “Capital E, capital F, capital P …” Hysterical.
I got the best glimpse of my dad’s work style when he offered me a summer job as a receptionist. (I guess listing my mother as a reference worked.) Not only did I observe him doing his job, but I also got to check out what he was like as a boss and a businessman. I was one of three receptionists who worked the front desk at his office, which was then in Kew Gardens, Queens: greeting patients, checking them in, and retrieving or creating a “record card.” Yes, on paper. Back then, computers took up an entire room and existed only at NASA or in sci-fi movies.
Pop was a good boss. True, for the first few days it was hard to make the switch to calling him “Dr. Leifer” instead of “Daddy.” And hard to lose the habit of screaming “ALL RIGHT!” at the top of my lungs anytime he asked me to do something. In any case, it was obvious to me what a good boss my dad was. Here are five reasons why:
1. He treated customers like family.
His side of the family, anyhow. The minute people walked into his office, my father was friendly and warm. If we were backed up with patients, he would always say to the crowded waiting room, “Sorry for the delay, folks! We’ll get to you all soon.” He had a very positive, “up” energy, and it was infectious. In some ways, my dad was more easygoing as a boss than as a parent. He raised his voice a lot more often at home than in the office. (But then again, it’s unlikely that one of his patients drank the last Tab from the rec room fridge.)
2. He felt that the customer was always right, especially when their volume was turned up.
In any business that deals with the public, there will always be somebody who’s unhappy. At my local Starbucks, for example, it’s usually me when I get the barista who’s seen me every morning for the past three years and still asks for my name to write on the paper cup. (It’s “Beyoncé,” by the way.)
In my dad’s office, many of these complaints were aired out loud, right at the front desk. But Pop was always cool with these disgruntled types. If a patient wasn’t satisfied, he immediately set out to correct the problem. And I don’t mean he was a pushover; he just felt that the customer’s experience was paramount. I saw firsthand how important it is to simply listen to what the customers have to say. Sometimes, that was all it took to turn a bad situation completely around.
3. He was the first one in, the last to leave, and he liked to use fish metaphors.
My dad was always there to open the shop in the morning, and at the end of the day he was the one to lock up. I didn’t realize how important that is until I’d held many jobs myself. But my dad knew that everyone takes their cue from the boss, or as he liked to say, “the fish stinks from the head down.” (Fortunately, he didn’t write his own wedding vows.) Pop felt responsible for his employees, and he believed the success of his business ultimately rested on his shoulders and his own hard work. If you have one of those bosses who breezes into the office at 11, takes a three-hour lunch, then leaves early “to meet with a client,” take note of the resentment you’re feeling, and remember it when you find yourself behind the big desk yourself.
4. He was tough, but decent, like a cheap steak.
My dad didn’t tolerate bad behavior from his employees. Anyone who was late, or guilty of some other infraction, was thoroughly chastised. But Dad always made it clear what the consequence would be if there was a next time. It’s a fair concept—you mess up again, well, you were warned. (Having a child of my own now, I truly see the value or this approach. Unfortunately, firing your child isn’t usually a viable option.) But there’s more to this story than just enforcing the ground rules. Because employees genuinely enjoyed working for my father, I could see that they truly felt bad when they disappointed him. That only comes when you work for someone you like and respect. So it was just as important that …
5. He created an equal playing field for all, including his baby girl.
Even though I was “the boss’s daughter,” my father never played favorites. At lunch time, for example, he always went out to eat. But I stayed back at the office, as all the receptionists did. Funny quirk of his—my dad was diligent about staying trim, so his lunch every day was just an apple, and then he would walk down to the Kew Gardens courthouse and watch random trials. See what people were forced to do for entertainment before the Internet? Pop could easily have grabbed me and taken me along for company, but he didn’t, because that would have been unfair to the other gals with whom I worked. (No matter to me. I loved staying inside, in the air conditioning. You try surviving Queens humidity in the summer!)
My mom gets her PhD from Yeshiva University, 1973.
My mom had her own great work journey. When I was in primary school, she took up teaching. But her dream was to become a psychoanalyst. So when I was in junior high, my mother attended Yeshiva University (bad Christmas parties, by the way) to get her doctorate in psychology. She received her degree in 1973 and soon after set up her own private practice, also in our home. Needless to say, my house was never the raucous party place. We had to be quiet at one end of the house for my dad’s patients, and quiet at the other for my mom’s. It’s probably why I became a cheerleader in high school—it was the only place where I could yell.
My mother also taught at Adelphi University in Hempstead, Long Island, and over the years many of her students have come over to me at comedy shows to tell me what a wonderful and inspiring teacher she was. She kept seeing patients well into her eighties (my mom just turned ninety-four). So look out, Betty White, I’m hot on your tail! (I said, LOOK OUT, BETTY WHITE … oh, never mind.)
As a follower of Freud, my mother believed, as the good doc Sigmund did, that mental health means the ability “to love and to work.” My parents certainly had the love part down, in that they were married for sixty-two years until my dad passed. And they were both very committed to the integrity and importance of work. They were both very “TGIM” (Thank God It’s Monday) type people, and that quality was certainly passed down to me. A life without work would surely be an empty one.
One more thing you should know about my mom: as a parent, her shrink hat was always on. Usually in a good way. When I was sixteen and learning to drive, my mother would come with me when I practiced. Once I accidentally hit a squirrel in the road, and naturally I was upset about it. My mom consoled my by saying, “Don’t give yourself a hard time about it, Carol. The squirrel clearly displayed suicidal tendencies.”
Dad making glasses in his home office.
Newlyweds!
CHAPTER 23
IN CLOSING: MY TOP TEN PERSONAL THOUGHTS ON SUCCESS
When writing this book, I found major tent poles of success that kept reappearing throughout each chapter. So I thought I’d single out my most personal and favorites for you, so you can always refer to them. Believe me, even after almost forty years in business, I still need a Letterman-style list like this to remind myself of the big basics!
1. Don’t dwell on failure.
Stewing over disappointments is wasted time that gets you nowhere.
As Amy Pascal, cochairman of Sony Pictures, has eloquently said: “They won, you lost—move on.”
2. The simple fact is, business is sexist.
So is just about everything else. And why boo-hoo about it when that won’t change anything? Real change will come only when women make other women a priority: hiring them, mentoring them, promoting them, etc. In my experience, a climate of competition still pervades relationships among women, so if you want change, put your energy into changing that. There’s still no “Old Girl’s Club,” but there should be.
3. Tenacity is a must to get ahead in anything.
The trick is to find the right balance. “The squeaky wheel gets the grease,” but the squeaky wheel can also make someone say “screw it,” toss the wheel in the trash, and go get a new bike. Be dogged, but not a pain in the ass. It’s a fine line.
4. If you ask for donations, you have to give donations.
I learned that tenet from all my fund-raising adventures, though the same holds true in business settings. Before you ask for things from colleagues, remind yourself what you’ve done for them. There’s a reason for the Latin phrase “quid pro quo.” Don’t expect quid if you never dish out any quo.
5. Don’t be afraid of no.
It’s one of my personal mantras. If you’re okay with rejection—and you have to be in business—then you’ll never be afraid to go after what you want. (Trust me, this quality is one that took me many years to learn.) But don’t confuse this point with the saying “Don’t take no for an answer.” I’m all for persistence and tenacity, but the time comes when you have to accept a pass and move on. (And honestly, you should feel lucky when you finally get a definitive answer about something, even if it’s a negative one. Being accountable is not high on most people’s priority lists.)
6. Diversify.
When I was offered a writing job on Saturday Night Live, I almost didn’t take it because I wanted the performer job I had auditioned for. But my dad sat me down, and we had a good long talk about how important it is to always look for ways to broaden a career. Especially with an opportunity as good as the one being handed to me. Dad knew that putting all my eggs in the one basket of stand-up comedy or acting would be risky over the long haul. He promised me I wouldn’t regret the decision, and almost thirty years later I see how right he was. So, keep an eye out for chances to learn the ropes and gain new skills, even in matters that aren’t your primary area of interest (yet).
7. “When the world is running down, you make the best of what’s still around.”
I wish I had said that, and not Sting, but I think of this quote often in hard times. Riding the tough stretches of a career requires all the positive thinking you can muster. Always appreciate what you do have, instead of dwelling on what you don’t.
8. Give criticism only after giving a compliment.
When you need to share an unpleasant truth, starting off with a solid validation helps a person take in your disappointment. I’m on both sides of this one all the time. It’s a good rule of thumb for your personal life as well. “A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down” was a concept much vaster than what was conveyed in Mary Poppins.
9. Work on your craft every day.
With creative endeavors, this is especially important. The Muse needs to punch in every day, just like the rest of us. Whatever business you’re in, undoubtedly there are specific skills that are critical to your success. Don’t let those skills get rusty, even it means finding ways to hone them outside the workplace.
10. Learn to walk away when you get frustrated.
Don’t keep banging your head against a wall. Take a break, and when you come back to the problem, you’ll see the solutions more clearly. My dad taught me that a long time ago about solving crossword puzzles, and it’s a great business lesson as well.
I’ll always be grateful for Dave’s support in those early days!
SCRAPBOOK
Have you noticed all the photographs in this book? Because I never throw anything away, I have way more pictures and memorabilia than could possibly fit within these pages. The downside of this habit is that I might end up featured on an episode of Hoarders. The upside is that I have plenty to share, and there’s room here for a few more mementos I thought you might enjoy.
At the Roslyn Country Club, 1962. Six hours later, I finally got into the water.
The day the pyramid collapsed. Me as a cheerleader, back row, far right.
Backstage in Vegas, with Richard Belzer, 1982.
My first “big time” gig: opening for the late great Peter Allen, 1980.
My brief stint as an emcee at male strip clubs. Classy.
With Chris Rock at Catch a Rising Star, New York City, 1987.
One of the sweetest and funniest people ever, John Candy, who hosted HBO’s 8th Annual Young Comedians show in 1983.
With Rodney Dangerfield at the taping of his “Nothin’ Goes Right” special in 1988. Man, I love that robe!
With the one and only Phyllis Diller at Rainbow and Stars, New York City, 1989. Every time I saw her, she would always shriek, “Isn’t doing standup the best?”
With my manager Laurie Lennard, outside the Ed Sullivan Theater for the taping of my Showtime stand-up special, 1990.
My dad, making sure that I knew I had his support … and that he disconnected the cable.
On the Seinfeld couch with Michael Richards and writer Peter Mehlman.
The night Johnny Carson passed away, Jerry put together this dinner in Los Angeles at Dan Tana’s restaurant. Left to right: Bill Maher, Chris Rock, Garry Shandling, Jerry Seinfeld, me, Jimmy Brogan, Larry Miller (standing), Jay Leno.
My dressing room door card, and Johnny’s desk notes, for my first appearance on The Tonight Show. And you thought talk shows were ad-libbed!
Seinfeld, Jerry Lewis, and me backstage at Damn Yankees on Broadway in 1995.
With Paul Reubens, a.k.a. Pee Wee Herman. His voice is not that high in person.
With George Carlin in 1998. So glad I got to meet him before his untimely passing.
With Steve Levitan, cocreator of Modern Family, at the Writers Guild Awards in 2012. Winners for Comedy Series and Episodic Comedy!
With Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick in the green room at the 2010 Oscars.
With Alec Baldwin at the 2010 Oscars. He hosted with Steve Martin, and we were nominated for an Emmy.
With Billy Crystal on the set of his Broadway show 700 Sundays in 2005. I’ve written for Billy three times for the Oscars.
At the taping of Seinfeld’s HBO special “I’m Telling You for the Last Time.” Left to right: Garry Shandling, Robert Klein, Jerry Seinfeld, George Carlin, Alan King, me, George Shapiro and Howard West (Jerry’s managers), George Wallace, Ed McMahon. I felt so lucky to be among such greatness.
I met President Clinton when Max Mutchnick (cocreator of Will & Grace) held a benefit at his home to raise funds for the Clinton presidential library.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Steve Fisher: Thank you for making this happen, and for finding the right home for my book.
Jason Rekulak: Thank you for being a terrific editor. You gotta love a guy who watches other people’s turtles when their owners go away on vacation.
My pals: Bill Kelley, Dave Boone, Cathy Rath, David Schneiderman, Ricky Strauss and Steve Altiere. Thanks for the extra sets of eyes and ears.
The dogs: Julius, Shelby, Maccabee, Albert, and Cagney. Sorry you were cast off to the guest house so often while I was writing! Your barking is adorable, but very distracting.
And most of all, to Lori and Bruno: You are my heart and soul. What would work be like without both of you to come home to every night?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CAROL LEIFER is a four-time Emmy nominee for her writing on such shows as Seinfeld, Modern Family, Saturday Night Live, The Larry Sanders Show, and seven Academy Awards telecasts. She has starred in five of her own comedy specials, which have aired on Showtime, HBO, and Comedy
Central. Her previous book was the national best seller When You Lie about Your Age, the Terrorists Win.
How to Succeed in Business Without Really Crying Page 12