You know what they say about assuming: an epic battle of miscommunication.

Picture it — A stone castle far, far away, covered by barbs of impenetrable thorns—a country under an unbreakable sleeping spell. A ferocious fire-breathing dragon bent on revenge. And a Prince who must slay the monster, save his love, and restore the kingdom with only the point of his blade buried into the villain's heart.

Every epic story sees a hero battling odds, delivering what we've come to expect from fairytales — it's what we assume makes happily ever after! But maybe that's the problem!

Remember the adage never to ASSUME because you'll only make an ass out of you and me? This may apply to the current Hollywood Writer's Strike (Actors Strike).

Recently, during a deep dive into a Masterclass on business principles (Masterclass with Steve Chandler), I was struck by a profound concept: The ever-present battle, not between Good vs. Evil, but Agreement vs. Assumption.

This hypothesis got me to look at my relationships. How often do I get frustrated and upset when someone I have a rapport with doesn't do what I expect of them?

It comes down to an established agreement with someone versus the assumption we put on them.

There is a long-standing feud between assumption and agreement, and it is usually around money — who controls the purse strings and who creates what sells, going back through history.

Take Michelangelo, for instance. This guy was a colossal pain in the assume because he didn't ever do what he was told. He created The David with many things stacked against him — unorthodox training, an inherited piece of marble that had been rotting for years and cut wrong.

Also, he made David a grown man, not a boy, infuriating his sponsors.

Michelangelo bucked the agreement between employee and employer. He did it all for the art. He was dedicated to the muse. The result was David, one of the world's most notorious statues and works of art.

Orson Welles was yet another assume-hole that fought an unfair agreement. It was assumed Welles would accept the constructs that had already been created. However, he had other plans.

The cocky twenty-four-year-old decided to take on William Randolph Hearst, the seventy-six-year-old newspaper giant more feared than well-respected. He was a man of great power, and almost everyone accepted it.

Hearst's newspaper was a mixture of a gossip rag and The New York Times, a blurred combo of Entertainment Tonight and CNN. He was known for making and breaking people (often for fun and always for money).

Welles didn't like this agreement — that someone could weld so much power, could destroy on a whim, and not get called out on it. Citizen Kane (often slated as the greatest film of all time) was the result — it also changed the entire film industry.

History is full of underdogs taking on the Overlords. I could go on and on, but I don't want to paint a picture in black and white or good vs. evil because that isn't what the Strike is about. Here's how I see it:

A Production Company agrees they need to make as much money as possible. Profit is their primary goal. They assume that everybody understands this, and based on the past, they assume everyone is on board.

Conversely, the Writer agrees that they will create a product that resonates with audiences and sells. The selling part fits nicely into the Production Companies' expectations. They are definitely on board!

However, the failure comes from the Writer's assumption that because Production Companies are money-focused, they would also recognize that the Writer needs more of it to continue to create. Now add the extra issue of new digital and Streaming content plus compensation — No wonder happily ever after seems so distant.

Writers reason that people will look out for people, that we are all in this fight together. This reason was never part of the spelled-out agreement from the beginning.

The assumption on the part of the Production Company is that as long as money is to be made (ignoring how much is then distributed), then everybody wins.

Both sides seem to believe there's a dragon to slay. The agreement should be about learning to coexist with or harness the dragon's power. Otherwise, what is the point of a dragon?

Unfortunately, like anything in a world of consumption, it comes down to profit. If this is the only thing worth considering, imagine what would be lost!

Little statue of David (or Dave or Baby-Davey), created by who? Or Citizen Kane, what? Would the film have even gotten off the cutting room floor had Welles accepted the agreement and not made an assumer out of himself?

What would happen if the only inspirational muse was the face on any dollar bill? What would the result be then?