How to get stuck in a lift: A 14 hour guide to Elevator Existentialism

Introduction:

If you’ve ever fantasized about spending a significant chunk of time locked in a metal box, suspended between the existential dread of your job and the daunting task of adulting at home, this guide is for you. Here's how to make the most of 14 hours stuck in an elevator, the perfect setting for some much-needed introspection and perhaps a dash of existential crisis.

Hour 1: Throw a Tantrum

Instructions:

Unleash the inner child you’ve kept muzzled during PowerPoint presentations and budget meetings. Pound your fists, stomp your feet, and scream as if you're a five-year-old denied candy.

Existential Moment:

As you throw your tantrum, ponder the Sisyphean nature of your job. Is this tantrum a metaphor for your endless cycle of work and dissatisfaction?

Hour 2: Pray to a Non-Existent God

Instructions:

Get on your knees and pray to whatever deity you imagine might be listening. The Elevator God, perhaps?

Existential Moment:

Realize the absurdity of life as you pray. Are you just a speck in the universe, or does the Elevator God truly care about your plight?

Hour 3: Cry for Your Mum

Instructions:

The lift walls are good listeners. Sob generously while calling for your mother, forgetting for a moment that you’re a grown-up.

Existential Moment:

Is your yearning for parental comfort a microcosm of humanity's desperate search for meaning and security?

Hour 4: Try Every Way to Wedge the Lift Open

Instructions:

Use your shoe, your tie, or even your hastily-scribbled resignation letter to pry the doors open.

Existential Moment:

Consider whether this struggle is a futile endeavor, akin to humanity's quest for ultimate knowledge.

Hour 6: Sing

Instructions:

Belt out your favorite tunes. From "Bohemian Rhapsody" to "Let It Go," the acoustics in here are surprisingly good.

Existential Moment:

Who are you performing for? Yourself, or some imagined audience that validates your existence?

Hour 7: Feel Sorry for Yourself

Instructions:

It’s a pity party, and you’re the guest of honor. Brood over every minor inconvenience you've ever encountered.

Existential Moment:

Are you feeling sorry for yourself, or for the human condition that binds us all to suffering?

Hour 8: Where Do I Piss In Here?

Instructions:

Identify the least offensive corner. Mark your territory, but elegantly, like a civilized beast.

Existential Moment:

As you relieve yourself, think about the basic animal needs that tether us to this mortal coil.

Hour 9-14: The Existentialist Marathon

Instructions:

You’ve been through a lot. Now is the time to deep-dive into the works of Camus, Sartre, and Nietzsche. If you didn’t bring them along, improvise based on what you remember from Philosophy 101.

Existential Moment:

You have 6 hours to solve the riddle of existence. No pressure.

Conclusion:

If you followed this guide, you should emerge from the lift not just relieved but also spiritually awakened. And if they fire you for not showing up to work, at least you’ve had a head start on pondering the meaninglessness of it all.