Comedy Central

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• January 18, 2016

When I was just a sophomore in college, I arbitrarily applied for all sorts of internships.  This seemed like the thing to do to get experience, and a “foot in the door.”  Amongst internships I reasoned I had a pretty good shot at getting, I also researched and sent out cover letters and resumes to places I was sure would never even look at my emails.

Then, about a month later, a got an email back from Comedy Central asking me if I was interested in interviewing for an internship there.  I literally jumped on my bed, and then I threw up a little.  I was so stoked.  I really just couldn’t believe it.  I had totally forgotten I even applied for that internship.

I was 19, pursuing journalism with a 4.0 GPA, and I loved writing, and people seemed to enjoy reading my work.  Journalism just seemed like what writer wannabees do.  I figured at some point I’d write a book, but I knew it was nearly impossible to “make it” as a fiction novelist.  My family is a blue collar, middle class, hard working people.  I was a product of the American Dream.  My parents both came from lower middle class families, who became more successful than their parents.  This is not a family of big risk takers.  This is a family of getting a good job, and paying your bills, and doing right by your family.  Doing stand-up was never a thought in my mind.  Don’t get me wrong, I loved stand-up.  I watched it religiously.  But my admiration was just that.  When I watched Greg Giraldo, Maria Bamford, Ellen Degeneres, Mike Birbiglia… I just thought they were geniuses and what they were doing was impossible.  Like a big wave surfer, dropping in on 60 foot waves, I perceived stand-up as just ridiculous, and only a for a select special few.  Writing sitcoms was/is my dream.  I was a sitcom junkie.  I would watch Comedy Central all day.  In a perfect fantastical world, I dreamt I worked as a sitcom writer, where I was very happy and would have a pet monkey.

These, of course, were just mere dreams of mine.  I pictured my actual life to be a lot safer.  I imagined I’d graduate college, and get some sort of low paying copy writing job, work my way up, and write for some newspaper or magazine, marry my child sweetheart James, and we’d teach our children how to surf, and they would have big blue eyes like James.  And I’m perfectly aware that an internship is just an internship, but this was the sort of thing I always imagined to other people.  I never thought I was anything special.

Every thing was shifting before I went on the interview.  For one thing, I hated journalism.  I became Editor in Chief of my college newspaper, and hated every minute of it.  The American Dream was a lie, and I despised it, which is what I learned from my father’s depression.  James did not reciprocate my deep feelings for him.  I went from being agnostic to an atheist.  Despite being very young, I already had several jobs, and hated every single one.  I went high to work all the time, and realized I loved drugs.  Whatever I decided to do with my life, I needed to love it more than I liked getting high, or my future was in trouble.  This was all brewing just underneath the surface.  All while being 19, and facing the impossible question anyone that age has to deal with: Who am I?  Who the fuck is Lori Palminteri?

Still, I planned to stay course.  Stay under the radar.  Do well, keep your head down.  That was my way.  I was unnoticed.  I wanted to be unnoticed.

I had to buy an outfit (well, my Mom bought it) for my Comedy Central interview, which was at their headquarters downtown, in Manhattan.  I wanted to look professional, and not like I was twelve years old.  Because I did look like I was twelve years old.  I was so nervous for that interview.  I kept rubbing my hand on the couch in the lobby, because I didn’t want my hand to be sweaty for the handshake.  I had never really been interviewed.  All the jobs I had were through people I knew, so I never had to.

I was called in, and I was interviewed by a Production Manager, and another guy named Brian who was also a surfer and from Long Island so I felt sort of connected with him right away.  The interview began, and I answered the questions the best I could, based on how you’re supposed to answer interview questions which I studied on the internet.  But I could tell… I was making no impression.  Not bad.  But not good either.  I was forgettable.  My social anxiety really had a strong grip on me then, and I was what I usually wanted… unnoticeable.  But this time I wanted to be noticed.  Then, the Production Manager said, “Lori, we interview a lot of students.  What makes you a better candidate?”

Oh God… the fuck if I should know?  My confidence was such shit, I thought they probably were off better hiring someone else.  How do you answer that question?  I could talk about my perfect GPA?  Being the editor?  Working two jobs while going to school?  But we had already been over that.  What do I say?  What should I say?  I couldn’t tell you what took over me… but the smart ass I truly am, inherited from my family came out, and I looked her in the eye and said, “I don’t know.  You met them, so you could probably answer that better than me.”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I wanted to punch myself in the face.  Why the fuck did I say that?  I just wanted to cry.  There was a pause, which was only a couple seconds, but felt like eternity, and then they burst out laughing.  I started laughing too, nervously.  And then I was hired, right there.

When I went back to school, I ran into some trouble.  Because the semester had already started, and I was told I couldn’t enroll in the internship program.  It was too late.

“But you don’t understand,” I pleaded, “this is my dream right here. Please!”

The assholes at administration told me no.  But I didn’t give up.  Luckily for me, I had a reputation among the staff of being a stellar and hardworking student.  I was able to get a couple people to pull some strings for me.  They would have never done this for a slacker.  Bust your ass, and people notice.  Even when you try really hard not to be noticed.

The internship itself wasn’t anything special.  I was an intern.  I did a lot of gofer work.  A lot of copying.  I got to work on a couple of cool shoots and met Steven Lynch and Dimitri Martin.  My boss, the Producer, told me all the time, “you have to speak up, Lori.  Don’t be afraid to break out of your shell.” I was afraid.

While making endless copies, I read scripts and storyboards, and I thought, “I could do this.”  It wasn’t a pretentious like, “I can do so much better than these writers” attitude.  It was more of a realization that this was not beyond my capabilities.  It was not beyond my reach.  My dreams, maybe weren’t impossible?

The people I worked with at Comedy Central were no longer there when I graduated college, so it didn’t help me with any job placements as a graduate.  The Comedy Central internship was a turning point for me.  I abandoned the “safe” road I was dreading anyway, and embraced my inner weird artist who so desperately wanted a chance.  As a kid, I spent hours, and weekends, and summers writing and filming stupid sketches and short films.  The thing is, I’m still that kid.

I don’t really watch Comedy Central anymore.  This is not because I don’t like Comedy Central.  It’s because I cannot afford cable because I’m extremely broke, precisely because I’m pursuing comedy.  I’m usually disappointed in myself, because I’m an overachiever, and I always think I should be doing better.  However, I can, on occasion, take some pride knowing that Lori, the Comedy Central intern, would think what I’ve accomplished so extraordinarily cool.