"I had a job as a paralegal. I drove a cab"
About this Quote
Larry David’s deadpan resume drop works because it refuses the heroic origin story our culture insists on stapling to success. Two blunt sentences, no connective tissue, no triumphal arc: “I had a job as a paralegal. I drove a cab.” The comedy sits in the austerity. It’s not “I hustled”; it’s “I existed,” and that tonal undercutting is Larry’s whole brand.
The intent is practical and slightly deflationary: to remind you that the path to creative prestige is usually paved with ordinary work, not mythic destiny. But the subtext is sharper. Paralegal and cabdriver are jobs associated with other people’s narratives. One supports lawyers; the other ferries strangers to wherever they’re going. David positions his pre-fame life as peripheral, service-oriented, and unglamorous, which slyly explains the sensibility that later fuels his comedy: an obsession with petty rules, social contracts, and the small humiliations of public life. You can almost hear the observational notebook opening in the driver’s seat.
Context matters because David is now synonymous with a certain kind of affluent misery (Seinfeld money, Curb neuroses). These lines puncture that aura. They also function as a class tell: not “I was waiting tables in L.A.” but two jobs that suggest steadiness, then improvisation; paperwork, then street-level chaos. The rhythm of the quote is the joke and the argument: life was unromantic, so he learned to make the unromantic worth watching.
The intent is practical and slightly deflationary: to remind you that the path to creative prestige is usually paved with ordinary work, not mythic destiny. But the subtext is sharper. Paralegal and cabdriver are jobs associated with other people’s narratives. One supports lawyers; the other ferries strangers to wherever they’re going. David positions his pre-fame life as peripheral, service-oriented, and unglamorous, which slyly explains the sensibility that later fuels his comedy: an obsession with petty rules, social contracts, and the small humiliations of public life. You can almost hear the observational notebook opening in the driver’s seat.
Context matters because David is now synonymous with a certain kind of affluent misery (Seinfeld money, Curb neuroses). These lines puncture that aura. They also function as a class tell: not “I was waiting tables in L.A.” but two jobs that suggest steadiness, then improvisation; paperwork, then street-level chaos. The rhythm of the quote is the joke and the argument: life was unromantic, so he learned to make the unromantic worth watching.
Quote Details
| Topic | Witty One-Liners |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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