Wow! Thanks for publishing this, warts & all.
I’m a native Angeleno myself, having spent the past quarter-century in NYC. Back in the 80s I got to know a couple of pretty successful screenwriters, though I didn’t consider myself one & had no plans to write a script. Still, now much later in life I wonder if I missed an opportunity to take their advice (which they freely offered) & make something of myself in that area. Useless speculation, I know.
One thing I can certain of, I’d have done poorly confronted with a situation such as you describe. Quite probably, as I drove home with that disgusting taste still in my mouth & up nose, I’d have begun to obsess on the alternatives: e.g. was he looking for me to refuse? See if I had any balls, or was quick on my feet? Was that his criterion? Almost certainly not. It was just his sadistic way of putting a would-be writer in his place. Cheaper than a postage stamp on a form rejection letter.
Maybe that’s just how the mind works.
If writers weren’t contemplative, or likely to obsess about what was, we likely would never write.
Sorry we never got to see that screenplay.