There's no difference, actually. We've run out of coffee packets up on the second floor where I work, so I had to go down to the first floor, which is generally where the higher paid, upper-level positions are. Their coffee is exactly the same as ours, and so are the carafes it comes out of, but theirs are cleaner and in better repair (probably fewer people using them, really), and that made the whole experience somehow fancier. I'm drinking executive coffee this morning.
Work is going to be rough for awhile. We're quite understaffed, and one of my coworkers just put in her resignation. Not sure how that's going to affect me yet -- she's one of the couple of people on whom I rely directly to keep me sane. I'll probably be foaming at the mouth here soon, which is nothing unusual, but starting next month I won't have her around to mop it up and keep me presentable.
Meantime, I've just lost one of my responsibilities because my boss can see the need to redistribute the workload. Apparently we're getting a temp next week, but for the moment I get to grit my teeth.
There is happier news, however. Friday's offBeat concert went really well. Saw some people who hadn't shown up to our shows before (hi Sean, Becki, and Cool Tom!), and we packed the place, which is good since the management were upset that we hadn't placed an ad in the Isthmus. We sold a lot of CDs, and I came home very tired and very hoarse, which meant no Rocky Horror. And that's okay, too. It's nice but rare for me to get the occasional good night's sleep on a weekend.
Oh, and this news is more than a week old now, but I have to recommend Children of Men, which I saw with crabmoon, laviorli, and phil_bond. Great film. Difficult to watch. Not one of the feel-good movies of the year, and not one I'll be sitting through again soon, but definitely, definitely worthwhile. Highlights that nobody else would care so much about include Michael Caine's role as an aging stoner-intellectual, and the soundtrack's inclusion of King Crimson's In The Court of the Crimson King, which I fell in love with at the tender age of four and is the first rock song I am aware of liking, and which beautifully accompanies a scene where I would never have thought to put it. Lindsay is still upset at director Alfonso Cuarón, who (between Y tu mamá también and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) seems to have a personal vendetta against her happiness.