Never work for Writers

In college, I got a job as a personal assistant to a well-known writer in NYC. The first couple days went fine until her demands became not only childish but impossible to accomplish. This all happened on one day.
1) I was sent to a music shop to get a translated copy of the lyrics to a german musical. I get there and it turns out that they don't have translations, only the original. I tell her this and somehow, it's my fault.
2) She buys a new cell phone but the store that sold it to her says they have to run a credit check which will take time. She tells me to wait while she goes and gets ready for her afternoon bus to the Hamptons. When the credit check is finished, almost two hours later, she has already gone to the bus station. The station is on Manhattan's Upper West Side and the cell phone store was near the WTC. On the phone, she demanded to have the new cell before the bus left. That meant getting from the store to the station during rush hour traffic without a car in the space of less than 20 minutes. I tried but it proved impossible to get there that fast. Again, that is somehow my fault.
3) While drinking coffee that morning, she breaks her cup and somehow it's my fault.
At the end of the day, I was fired.