"I Tried Living Like a Billionaire for a Week — Here's What Shocked Me the Most"

I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live like a billionaire. You know—no budget, no stress, no microwave dinners. Just a daily life full of luxury cars, penthouse views, and staff who cater to your every whim. It sounded like a dream.

So I set out to find out: What happens when an average person (read: me) attempts to live like a billionaire for a week?

Now, full disclaimer—I’m not rich. I don’t even qualify as upper-middle-class. But I had saved up for a while, did some credit card gymnastics (not my proudest moment), and cashed in a few favors to rent luxury experiences for seven straight days. My mission? To test-drive the billionaire lifestyle and document what it really feels like.

Here’s what happened.


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Day 1: The Suite Life

I kicked off the week in a luxury hotel suite that cost more per night than my monthly rent—$2,100. It came with floor-to-ceiling windows, a personal butler (yes, a real one), and a marble bathtub I could literally stretch out in. That night, I ordered a $300 steak just because I could. It arrived on a gold-rimmed plate with three different salts I couldn’t pronounce.

It was magical… until the tip screen popped up on the in-room iPad and I realized 25% of $300 is not your usual $10 tip. Still, I powered through.


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Day 2: Private Driver Problems

I hired a private chauffeur in a blacked-out Mercedes S-Class to drive me around all day. I felt powerful. People opened doors for me, and the valet called me “sir” without irony. I visited high-end boutiques and tried on watches that cost more than my car.

But by 4 p.m., I was restless. I had nowhere to go because billionaires don’t run errands—they delegate them. I ended up sitting in the car pretending to check stocks just to pass the time. Turns out, it’s hard to fill your day when you have nothing you actually need to do.


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Day 3: Dining Like Royalty

I made a reservation at a Michelin-starred restaurant that served a 12-course tasting menu. It was exquisite. Each dish looked like abstract art and was explained with a story that made me nod as if I understood. One of the courses was literally “air-infused caviar foam” on a spoon the size of a thumbtack.

By course nine, I was hungry again.

The wine pairing was so expensive that when the bill arrived, I seriously thought there’d been a mistake. There wasn’t. The total was $834. I tipped $200 because the waiter remembered my name. And my dog’s name. How?


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Day 4: Personal Trainer Torture

I figured billionaires must have incredible bodies. So I hired a celebrity personal trainer for a two-hour session.

He arrived with a clipboard and a protein smoothie I didn't ask for. What followed was the most brutal workout I’ve ever endured. I threw up in a designer gym bathroom. Twice. But I pushed through, because “mindset is everything,” he said.

I went back to my hotel suite and cried into my overpriced pillow.


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Day 5: Retail Therapy

I booked a private shopping experience at a luxury boutique. They shut down the store just for me. A stylist handed me outfits and said, “This is very you.” I nodded, though I had no idea what “me” meant anymore.

I bought a leather jacket for $1,700 that I will never wear because it doesn’t go with anything I own.


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Day 6: Alone at the Top

I spent the day at a rooftop lounge sipping $40 cocktails and pretending to be busy on my phone. The view was incredible, but the vibe was strange. Everyone there looked like they were trying to outdo each other. It was like a silent contest of Rolexes and silent judgment.

No one talked. Not to each other. Not even to the bartenders.

It hit me: being rich doesn’t make you interesting. It just gives you more expensive distractions.


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Day 7: The Come Down

I ended the week with a spa day. Massage, facial, mud wrap—the works. It was nice. But while lying there in cucumber-covered silence, I started thinking: Do billionaires actually feel better than the rest of us? Or are they just better at hiding their stress behind designer sunglasses?

By the time I checked out of the hotel, I was mentally and financially drained. I had maxed out a credit card and spent nearly $8,000. All for a week of pretending.


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What Shocked Me the Most

It wasn’t the price tags. I expected the sticker shock. It wasn’t even the lifestyle—it was beautiful, curated, and at times intoxicating.

What shocked me the most was the emptiness.

The moments I felt the best weren’t when I was wearing a $5,000 suit or sitting in a chauffeured car. They were the tiny, fleeting moments—chatting with the hotel staff, tipping the doorman who smiled every morning, sharing laughs with the spa attendant who’d seen it all.

Living like a billionaire gave me luxury. But it didn’t give me connection. It didn’t give me meaning. And it sure didn’t make me happier.

Would I do it again? Honestly—no.

But I did learn something money can’t buy: appreciation for what I already have.