The Literary Drover No. 1729

From notes made on the human condition:

How “eccentric” is too eccentric?

Despite living in the relatively remote environs I find there is a demand for screenwriters who can actually write a screenplay. A few months ago I was contacted by someone I know (who knows someone, who knows someone, who knows someone, ad infinitum), who told me that they wanted me to be involved in a forthcoming project as – ta-da – The Screenwriter. A seemingly infinite number of e-mails and telephone calls later a “business lunch” was scheduled, and I agreed to attend as “The Screenwriter”.

There supposed to be twelve attending the meeting. Number twelve, The Producer, showed up fashionably late by thirty-plus minutes. Everyone else had placed their orders and were nursing drinks when said Producer-type showed up, ordered a Vodka and paint thinner (I kid; it was grain alcohol.), and sat down. Within minutes our salads arrived, and as the eleven others tried to be polite about the delay The Producer took out a zip lock bag filled with fresh herbs and began festooning her salad with them. Unfortunately for everyone else the waiter saw this and hurried over, seeking an explanation for why a paying customer would bring their own food.

Long story short (the proceedings went downhill faster than grease goes through a pig), I am of the distinct impression we have been encouraged to take our business elsewhere.

Something tells me bad things be comin’, despite assurances The Producer may be encouraged to leave the project. Regardless, I found the entire experience funny because it occurred to me the world is filled with off-center types like The Producer. Are there movies and films focused on this type of person, who would tilt at windmills but since the windmills already tilt at them they take their behavior one step further?

 

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