The Hustle Queen
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Summary
Our new intern Valerie boasted about pulling all-nighters, earning office-wide admiration as the "hustle queen." But while she thrived, I—the disciplined one—was crumbling.
Dark circles deepened under my eyes with each of her sleepless nights. When she bragged about two hours of sleep, my heart pounded like a drum.
My doctor was shocked. "Your organs are failing like a 60-year-old's," he warned. "This will kill you."
But I slept eight hours nightly. Why was I dying?
Confronting Valerie only drew colleagues' scorn. "If you're so tired," my boss sneered, "maybe the night shift suits you…
