The Wall Street Journal ran a curious piece titled, "Is It Ever OK to Have an 8 a.m. Meeting?" It contained two dubious assumptions: (1) That 8 a.m. is very early in the morning, and (2) Employees have a right to rebel against a company policy that interferes with drop-off time for kids at school — or forces them to alter their workout schedules.

One can sympathize with a parent's desire for predictable schedules. But if they can't be flexible enough to occasionally show up at work an hour early, they may need a different employer.

Many global businesses, particularly in finance, may need everyone together at a time when they can confer with colleagues in other time zones. As the article notes, "early-morning work hours are a hallmark of the finance and healthcare industries as well as education, and a standby of high-powered executives."

But what made 8 a.m. such an outrageously early hour? To a lot of working Americans, 8 a.m. is practically lunchtime. Firefighters, police, nurses and emergency room doctors work the entire night. (Some are lucky if they get home by 8 a.m.) In rural America, the cows have already been milked by 6 a.m.

About 16% of full-time employees work on "alternative shifts," according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

Meanwhile, a gust of entitlement blows from some of these squawks about early meetings. "If I have to push myself to an 8 o'clock meeting," 36-year-old Jake Rudy is quoted, "I really had better have a good reason for being there." Keeping his job could be a good reason.

If an early meeting has to happen, Lorna Hagen said, managers should notify workers well in advance. Fair enough, when possible. But speaking in Gen-Z she added, "companies have to be very intentional about what conditions they set."

I once had an editing job that started at 6 a.m. As part of my interview, the boss sternly asked me, "You are going to be here at 6 a.m., right?" I answered, "Yes, that's the job" and was hired.

I've since developed enormous respect for those who rise in the early hours to serve the 9-to-5ers. During a stay in Kirkland, Wash., I recall visiting the only place that served coffee at 6 a.m. It was a downtown Starbucks where two young women served pre-dawn lattes with unforgettable cheer. They had opened the place at 5:30.

As for my 6 a.m. editing job, true, I didn't like having to haul out of bed at 4:30 a.m. to dress and catch a downtown bus to the office. But navigating pre-dawn Manhattan now remains one of my most fabulous dreamscapes.

Because of the early hour, buses were few, so I'd catch the same one every day. I got to know the bus driver (when did he get up?) and also the janitors on their way to opening downtown office buildings. We formed something of a club.

The bus passed through Times Square at around 5:45 a.m. — a strange bewitching hour where late night met early morning. You could look up at the second floors and see revelers still dancing under disco balls. On street level, meanwhile, a small army of trucks was bringing danishes to the city's coffee shops preparing to open for the morning commuters.

Look, workers can rightly fight off demands to answer non-urgent emails after dinner. But the boundaries they draw have to be consonant with the terms of employment. If someone routinely working 9-to-5 is expected to show up at 8 a.m. for a special meeting, well, that's the job. As the song goes, take it or shove it.

Froma Harrop covers the waterfront of politics, economics and culture with an unconventional approach. She can be reached at fharrop@gmail.com.