Let Me Tell You Something (22 page)

I did his books, ran his office, handled his creditors, and learned to think fast. That job made me who I am today. My time with my dad, being by his side, watching him at work, was invaluable. My dad never even finished high school, but he is literally a genius. We would start each workday with a stop at the church to say a prayer. My dad was a hard worker, but he didn't forget the important things in life, and he didn't take anything for granted.

One of the most valuable experiences I had in my dad's office, as awful as it was at the time, was being there as his business fell apart. His company dealt in plastics, and suddenly there was a shortage of the plastic pellets he needed for his business. It crippled my father's company. I remember working the phones and having to bullshit my way through all these phone calls. I was eighteen, juggling customers and creditors, and helping my dad keep his head above water.

I saw him fail, I saw him fall, and I saw him pick himself up again because he had to, for his family. It made me so proud of my father. I worked for him until right before I got married at twenty-two. I saw the good, the bad, and the ugly, and I learned what to do in business, and what not to do. That was the best education I could ever have gotten.

My father was a pit bull in business. When things got ugly, he was a madman. He taught me the value of managing a group and understanding its dynamics. There's always one leader in a group, and at least one bad apple. Learning to tell the difference has always helped me in business and in life.

I'm probably gonna get a lot of shit for this, but I don't care. I'm going to say this: it is my feeling that if you don't go to college for a very specific thing, like to become a doctor, a lawyer, a scientist, an architect, something very specific, don't go. If you're going to college just to have the college experience, don't waste your friggin' money.

I'd estimate that 90 percent of the people I know who've graduated from a university are not doing what they went to college for. Life gets in the way of many career plans, so if you aren't gonna be a doctor, save your money. Get out there, pound the pavement, identify what you want to do with your life, and go after it with everything you can. Be a warrior.

If you don't have a degree and you want a job that requires one, go in there and stand up for yourself. Tell them that you may not have a degree but you're a badass and you're good at what you do. Then tell them that if they give you the job, they can pay you half the salary for two months, and you'll show them. Remind them that someday in their past someone took a chance on them. Be honest, have balls, show initiative.

A degree is only as good as what you intend to use it for. Albie's business degree from Fordham is hanging on the wall in my office, and it makes me proud, but I'm just as proud of my other kids, who didn't go to college. Lauren went to a trade school and learned to be a cosmetologist. And Christopher went to the school of life. I had all three possible educational experiences with my kids—college, no college, and trade school. And they're all equally successful.

Albie's using his degree in business with his brother, but Christopher is the bait and hook. He gets the meeting, he uses his street smarts to keep potential clients interested, and then Albie comes in with his business knowledge to close the deal. Together they're dynamic, they're a great team. Christopher is the guy you want to go out on the golf course with; he's the guy you want sitting at the bar with you. It's his street smarts that save the day, every time. Christopher learned something in the real world that you just can't learn in college: how to read people and how to keep them engaged and earn their trust. It's always having these qualities, as well as a college degree, that make a business a success.

I laugh a lot. At myself. And
so should you. Humor will get
you through the hard times.

The thing that bugs me most about
Real Housewives
is that they always make me look so damn serious. The fact is, that couldn't be further from the truth: I'm probably the most easygoing person on that show.

I love to laugh. Most of the day, there's a smile on my face. I know that doesn't make for great reality TV, but it's me. I've gotten through every tough time in my life by laughing, and not always at the right things.

In 1983 my husband lost his father, and afterward, my mother-in-law's house was overrun by people. It was a crazy, dark, intense time. Everyone was dealing with the shock of his loss, and the sadness of his absence. He was a popular man, and the visitors kept flooding in to pay their respects. When you thought that the house couldn't hold another person, there'd be twenty more people at the door.

After a full day of visitors the family just wanted to be alone, and tensions were starting to rise. I went into the kitchen with Al's aunt Joan to make the fifty thousandth pot of coffee for the newest batch of visitors. She and I looked at each other funny, and I quipped “Should we make some coffee?” which was what we'd been doing all day. Suddenly, we both burst out laughing. We cracked up so hard that we ended up on the floor, laughing at God knows what—who knows!

I'll always remember she sent me a letter afterward, telling me that our laughing fit got her through one of the toughest days of her life.

Laughing gives such a release. Sometimes a good laugh can derail a good cry. Though I do get a little embarrassed when a laughing fit comes on during a less-than-appropriate time. Without fail, I will erupt into giggles at a viewing before a funeral if the deceased is wearing glasses. I can't explain it. I don't mean to be disrespectful. I mean it's the most ridiculous thing. Put the glasses in their hands, or in the pocket of their jacket. Those glasses certainly are not going to help them see any better now. Al is getting pretty good at explaining that one—people stare at him, as if I'm deranged for laughing. He just nods understandingly and says “it's the glasses.” The harder I try to mask the laughter, the worse it gets. But, hey, it beats the heck out of crying!

I was dreadful when it came to disciplining the kids when they were little. They'd make a silly mistake, and you'd have to let them have it. But they would always look so cute and they'd say the cutest things that I could never keep a straight face. I would leave the room and just crumble into fits of laughter while Al kept up the bad-cop routine.

Lauren especially would get me going. Al's favorite band is Queen, so we were always listening to their music at home. Little Lauren loved the music too, so much that she made a sign, using the lyrics from one of their songs, and hung it on her bedroom door—AND NOW YOU CAN KISS MY ASS GOOD-BYE. She was so proud of herself. When I saw it I laughed so hard I was crying, but we had to try to show her why it was wrong. Thankfully Al can keep a straighter face than I!

Much worse was the time when she was ten, and the boys decided to trick her by telling her that the word
jerk off
was a term of endearment! On that day we had family visiting. Al's mother came up to Lauren to greet her. “Hi, Lala, how are you?” she said. You can imagine my mother-in-law's horror when her darling granddaughter turned to her and said, smiling sweetly, “Hi, jerk off!” I couldn't believe what I was hearing, but then I saw Albie and Christopher bust up laughing, and I knew they'd set her up. I saw the humor in it, and whenever I remember that moment, it still brings a smile to my face.

I try to keep my humor respectful. Nobody likes being laughed at. I used to hate it, but I've been forced by the show to come to terms with it. You need to develop a thick skin and learn how to laugh it off once you decide to make your life public. Everyone on the Web has an opinion, and it was tough at first. It still can be.

In season four, we featured Lauren's weight struggle on the show, and I've always been so supportive of her. I was shocked when the public reacted so poorly. They insisted that I was a bad parent for humiliating my child in public. Lauren's decision to share her weight battle was made by Lauren. Trust me—if she hadn't been comfortable with it being on TV, you wouldn't have seen a single mention of it on the show. It's hard to laugh off the rude comments when they are about your mothering.

As with any joke, how funny it is depends on who's pulling the trigger. It's a fine line, and from time to time, my feelings can still get hurt. If someone lashes out at my family, it still stings. But I'm getting better at letting the personal insults roll off my back.

Laughter has helped with everything from grief to loss to fame. Whether life is headed up or down, we have a choice between laughter and tears, and if I can help it, I'll choose laughter every time.

Everybody shits on a
bowl. Never allow yourself
to be intimidated

I've never ever thought I was better than anyone, and I've also never thought anyone was better than me. I give credit to my dad. “Caroline,” he would say, “be strong. Caroline, be smart. Caroline, don't take anybody's bullshit.” And then he'd pause, and with a wave of his hand he'd close with, “Everybody shits on a bowl.”

Now you can see where I get my tell-it-like-I-see-it attitude. What my dad was really saying is that no matter who a person is in their public life, whether they're a movie star, the president, or the clerk at the grocery store, we're all human. We're all equal. We all shit on a bowl. As coarse as this sounds, all it means is that we're all people, we're all equal, and you shouldn't be intimidated by anyone.

I always think of his words of wisdom before a big meeting. If I was about to meet the president of the United States, I would be cool as a cucumber. I'd remind myself that he's a person, just like me, and I'd be calm. I can go onstage in front of five thousand people, no problem. Just before I walk out there, I remind myself that each and every one of them spent some alone time in the bathroom this morning. We're all the same.

I cannot tell you how many times this little bit of wisdom from my father has saved me.

A few summers ago my husband and I took a wonderful trip to Jordan. I fell in love with the country, its exotic sights. Long story short, the Manzos ended up hanging out with the prince and princess of Jordan. (I know, sometimes I can't believe my life.)

One night I was invited to a dinner party with the princess and the prince at their palace. It was gorgeous but also very formal, and I was advised of the rules I needed to follow when interacting with His and Her Highness. I was seated next to the prince, and at the beginning of dinner I leaned over to him. “What's up?” I joked. Every­body suddenly looked at me, in horror. But the prince just smiled widely, and we ended up having a fascinating conversation. I talked to him like I would talk to anyone else. He's just a man after all. He loved my openness, and we had the best time.

I wasn't trying to be rude or break the rules. He seemed like a nice guy and I just wanted to give him the chance to talk like a regular person. I love meeting people, and I am always polite. I shake hands well, I make eye contact, and I engage with the person immediately. But I never forget, we're all the same. We all shit on a bowl.

If I ever meet the queen of England, I'll do whatever they tell me; I'll bow, I'll curtsy. But it wouldn't be out of character for me to say, “Hey, Your Majesty, what's up?” She's Queen Elizabeth, but she's also Elizabeth who's going to go home and feed her dogs and wash her face, just like I do every night.

No matter what you've heard about a person before you meet him, whether he's famous or powerful or just someone with a reputation for anger, I believe that most people want to connect, they want to be able to relate to others and be accepted.