Tu ne peux pas me virer!

I just got the work schedules for the next two weeks at the Frog (the pub I work in). I just glanced through them a couple times.
Something seemed a bit out of place. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. New font? Different managers?
Oh wait. They accidentally spelled "jeudi" as "jerdi."
Oh, and last week I was on the schedules. This week I'm not. That's kind of strange too.
Did I really get fired just when I finished my seemingly interminable training? I've been a model worker so far. My mojito has become an artform. I can balance two baked potatoes, a slice of cake, and a cheeseburger on my arms. I cleaned out their garbage room at 4AM when another staff member directly disobeyed the order. They had just finished renovations in the area--the garbage room was full of huge wooden slats, sacks of plaster and chemicals, and an alleged family of rats, but I did it anyway. I don't steal tips off the table that are meant to be shared with the entire staff, unlike half of the waiters.
This no doubt stems from an incident that occurred Saturday night, when I stirred a customer's drink with my johnson.
Just kidding. That might actually be an interesting story.
I was apparently scheduled to work Saturday night, but missed this on the schedule. Without fail, I have always worked Fridays and Sundays, but was scheduled for an extra day last week. I must have grazed over it and made an honest mistake. I had already scheduled a quasi-date Saturday night and had made complicated plans.
They called asking me where the deuce I was. I was already on the way out the door to meet a girl who would hopefully like gin and church bingo games as much as myself. It would require the Jaws of Life to pry me away from the evening and put me in the Frog until 1AM. I'm a good man, I promise, but I needed an excuse this time.
"I have a piano class."
"On a Saturday night?"
"Uhh yeah. Well, a lesson. I absolutely cannot miss it."
"Ok. I will note that."
Click.

Although the manager informed me on Sunday that it was "not cool," we seemed to smooth everything out and agree that an honest, one-time mistake had been made.
Although I won't know until tomorrow, I don't think things are smooth anymore.
My piano teacher told me to quit this job today, since staying out until 6AM in order to close the bar was making my Schumann sound awful. So maybe this is all a blessing in disguise.

Yes, maybe I should've run into work on Saturday, but I still think it's a bit silly to fire me over one missed day. To be determined. But I have a feeling this one isn't going to end well.
So just in case, here is my acrimonious kiss-off to the Frog. I'm amazed I got fired before I quit, like 1/3 of the barstaff does every week.
Just for the record, you know how they get their white beer so bubbly?
HUMAN SKIN.