In the late 80's and early 90's I attended the American Film Institute and subsequently worked as a screenwriter. I was represented by a man who now runs, arguably, the most powerful talent agency in America. We were both young and ambitious and he got me access to some of the most powerful movers and shakers in Hollywood. My writing sample, "Secret Lives," was well received, granting me the odd privilege of being Screenwriting Flavor of the Month. I met a lot of very interesting, smart, nice people.
It's the weirdos I remember. One woman, who has since written an expose about all the horrible people she met in Hollywood, spent the entire one hour "pitch" meeting opening and shutting the large, hand-carved teak doors to her office with a remote while I talked to her nervous, apologetic assistant. Another producer repeatedly asked me if his Southwestern themed office, which looked like an upscale Taco Del Mar, was "tacky." A Star Wars office, he felt, would be more dignified but worried that he would look like a mere fan, not a player. It was very difficult, he informed me, to keep up appearances, since his wife was taking him to cleaners for sleeping with his assistant. A different assistant, (who is probably now a studio head) posed as a producer while his boss was in Toronto. He promised to buy my script. When his boss returned she met with me, alone. "He's a liar and I fired him. But if you write a script about the first man to attend Smith College, with a lot of nudity and shower scenes, we'll buy it."
My most memorable meeting was in a very dark, large office with an elegant, slim older producer. He smiled tiredly at me, closed his eyes and asked me to talk about my hometown, Seattle. "I'm so sick of this business. So sick of LA. Why don't you go home? You can write anywhere." Turns out, he was the smartest man I met.