Don’t Talk to Me in the Morning
A Monologue by a Man Fighting for His Right to Stay Silent Until 10:00
Let’s start with honesty.
I don’t hate people.
I just hate people in the morning.
Give me an hour. Two, ideally.
Give me coffee. Possibly two cups.
Give me silence. Eye contact with the floor. Minimal movement. No opinions.
And then-maybe-we can exchange words.
Until then, anyone who initiates a conversation with me before the sun has fully clocked in is actively endangering both their physical safety and our diplomatic relations.
The Conspiracy of Morning People
At some point, a cult emerged. Quietly. Efficiently. With alarm clocks.
They are known as Morning People.
You know them:
- “Waking up early is a virtue”
- “The most successful people start their day at 5 a.m.”
- “Let’s have a lively chat about productivity at 7:12”
These are the same people who begin their day with a light jog and an avocado omelet.
I begin my day like a prisoner responding to an evacuation siren: confused, frightened, in pajamas, stumbling toward the kettle.
Every morning.
Every day.
Since kindergarten.
Morning Is a Crime Against Humanity
Why is everything in the morning considered cute?
Birds chirping?
They’re not cheerful. They’re disruptive.
Sunrise?
An optical assault.
Children waking up early and singing “Good morning”?
That’s a violation of the Geneva Conventions.
And most importantly:
Why does being awake automatically mean I am available for conversation?
There is a vast, philosophical difference between being awake and being present.
Yes, I’m sitting next to you at the office.
No, my consciousness is not here.
It’s hovering somewhere between my pillow and an espresso machine.
Morning Offenders: A Taxonomy
1. The Aggressive Greeter
The one who bursts in with:
“GOOOOOOD MORNING!!!”
As if hosting a children’s TV show in the 1990s.
He doesn’t mean good morning.
He is attempting to impose it.
This is vocal terrorism.
2. The Serial Inquirer
“So, how did you sleep?”
“How are the kids?”
“What’s the plan for today?”
My friend.
I am currently negotiating with a spoon inside a yogurt cup.
Let’s start with a simpler question:
“Do you want coffee?”
(The answer is always yes.)
3. The Morning Assertivist
“Let’s quickly close everything for the week.”
I don’t know where I am.
I’m not sure if today is Tuesday or Thursday.
Please allow me to first understand why I exist.
Coffee: Beverage or Initiation Ritual?
Coffee is not a drink.
It is a threshold.
It is the difference between:
“Who are you and why are you speaking to me?”
and:
“Oh, right. You’re my boss. Good morning.”
Interrupting a person before their first coffee is a legally complex act.
It requires a lawyer, an insurance policy, and basic human compassion.
In my culture, the first coffee grants diplomatic immunity.
Violating it means you knowingly entered an emotional minefield.
Why Is This So Hard to Understand?
Every morning, millions of people worldwide simply want to survive the first hour of the day without human interaction.
This is not misanthropy.
It is a love of silence.
Not antisocial behavior-
pro-mental-health policy.
Is it really too much to ask for a simple social contract?
- First hour = silence
- Facial expressions = optional
- Interaction = emails only
- And preferably, those emails should be sent tomorrow
Cafés: The Last Safe Haven
Thankfully, there are still sacred spaces that respect the right to morning silence: coffee shops.
Especially the good ones.
The ones that don’t ask questions.
You walk in.
You nod.
You sigh.
You whisper “espresso”.
And everyone understands.
This is the only social model that doesn’t require enthusiasm at 8:00 a.m.
And Then There’s Zoom
If you thought my face improves over time-
working from home introduced a new crime against humanity:
8:00 a.m. Zoom calls.
A video call at that hour is a passive-aggressive message:
“I’m awake. I’m productive. I look fine without a filter. What about you?”
My answer:
I’m still trying not to put toothpaste on my face instead of eye cream.
Hard pass.
Conclusion: Give Us Our Mornings
Don’t talk to me in the morning.
Not because I don’t like you-
but because I want to continue liking you.
Because every word spoken to me before coffee feels like a nail hammered into my soul.
So please:
Give me my time.
Give me my silence.
Give me my coffee.
When can you talk to me?
After the second cup.
Maybe.
Depends on the weather.
And on whether you asked me how I slept.
And one last thing:
An email that starts with “Just checking in” is also a form of threat-at least until 10:00.
Good morning, everyone.
More or less.
הירשמו כדי לקבל את הפוסטים האחרונים אל המייל שלכם
