By your last count, you've at your desk for thirty-two hours straight. You're on your eighth Red Bull, and the combination of your lack of sleep and the enormous amount of caffeine running through your body has taken its toll.
You fight to keep your eyes awake, your head bobbing slowly like the world's least energetic thrash metal fan. At the same time, your hands quiver and tremble with nervous sugar-fueled energy on your desk. You hold back yawns while your teeth chatter inside your head.
You've been struggle to reach a milestone before the deadline, but it's too late. The time has run out. Red teams wins.
You crack open another drink. One more round.