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CHAPTER 5
Not What You Are Paid For, but What You Were Made For
    I remember vividly the day that I decided to change my life. It was Tuesday, October 8, 1985, in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. I was twenty-seven, married, and a new father of beautiful twin baby girls. While I was excited to be a father for the first time, we were really struggling. We were living in a little two-bedroom house, and I was barely scraping by with my full-time job and writing jokes on the side for comedian A. J. Jamal. One night, I was hanging out in Hilarities Comedy Club with a woman named Gladys Jacobs. She knew about my gig with A.J.
    â€œWhy don’t you just write some jokes for yourself and sign up for the open-mike night for next week?” she asked. I agreed to sign up for the next show.
    I hung around to see Gladys perform her set. There were nine comedians onstage that night with Gladys. Some of the performers were good; some were bad; and, surprisingly, the guy who did Bullwinkle and Popeye impersonations slayed the crowd the most. The host got to the end of the open-mike list, and the last comic was a no-show.
    â€œWell, why don’t we just start with the names for next week? If Steve Harvey is here, come on up,” he said.
    I was sitting there minding my business, eating, and drinking a glass of grapefruit juice. I put down my drink and said, “Gladys, somebody here has the same name.”
    She looked at me and said, “Fool, he means you . Get on up there!”
    I ran up onstage and started my set by facing the wall. When I turned around, I said, “I ain’t even supposed to be here until next week.” To my shock, they started laughing. “No, really, I’m not kidding. This is an accident.” The crowd kept on laughing, but Gladys could see that I was freezing up.
    â€œTell us the story about your boxing days!” she yelled.
    I starting telling a story about boxing one of my fiercest opponents, who was named Bernard Taylor. I really got into it and began demonstrating how he used to climb into the ring with a pigeon-toed walk. The crowd was howling. Meanwhile, the host was on the side of the stage motioning for me to wrap it up, but I thought he was telling me to keep going, so I told another story. Finally, I said, “Well, I can’t think of anything else to say, so I’ll see y’all next week!”
    After I finished, the host brought all the contestants back onstage. There was a clap-off for the best comedian. I won my first amateur night. The first-place prize was fifty dollars!
    I walked into work the next morning with that fifty dollars, and you couldn’t tell me nothing. I marched myself into the card shop downstairs and paid them twenty-five dollars to print up two hundred cards with my name, address, phone number, and the word “Comedian” right under my name. I waited until all two hundred cards were off press. When they were done, I took my fresh box of printed cards and went upstairs to show them to my buddy, Russell.
    When I saw Russell, he said, “Where were you last night? I was looking for you and couldn’t find you anywhere.” I told him that I won an amateur night at a comedy club.
    â€œA comedy club? That’s exactly where you need to be!”
    I showed him the cards. “I’m thinking of quitting this job.”
    â€œWell, don’t think about it. Do it!”
    I got a box, cleared off my desk, and headed to my boss’s office to deliver the news.
    â€œTom, look, I really appreciate the opportunity, but I have a young family, and last night I discovered what I really want to be.”
    â€œWell, what’s that, Steve?” my boss asked.
    I told him about winning the amateur night at the comedy club and I informed him that I was a