I always wanted to be the type of rich where you don’t know where my fridge is. Now that I have achieved hidden fridge status, I’m not sure it was worth it. Don’t get me wrong, the being rich part is great. Unfortunately, my fridge blends into the kitchen’s design so well that I have no idea where it is.

My glasses, plates, and bowls are on full display on my open concept shelving. My pots and pans hang on a rack above the island. And I know exactly what drawer to find the cutlery in. But if you’re looking for my fridge, your guess is as good as mine.

Have you ever “misplaced” your sunglasses and searched your entire house trying to find them, only to realize they were on top of your head the entire time? That’s nothing compared to the embarrassment of standing in the middle of your custom-built, dream kitchen and not being able to locate your prized Sub-Zero fridge.

I know it’s supposed to be like one of those hip speakeasies, where the door is hidden in plain sight and you just have to know where to look. All I have to say about that is there’s no fridge behind my dishwasher’s door. It’s just a dishwasher. Same with the microwave.

It’s gotten to the point where all the kitchen’s really good for is tap water, and I can get that from any of the nine bathrooms in my house. So now, I try to avoid the kitchen whenever possible.

Which sucks when people come over. I don’t need Emily Post to tell me I should offer my guests something to eat or drink when they arrive. Sadly, without access to my fridge, all I can offer is tap water and leftovers that have been sitting on my kitchen counter for who knows how long.

House tours are even worse. Nobody cares about the home theatre or how many bathrooms you’ve got, they just want to see the kitchen, and it’s not like I can pretend I don’t have one. So, I give the people what they want, and it’s nothing but compliments about the matching quartzite backsplash and island, fancy lighting pendants, and double oven range, before the inevitable, “Hey, do you have one of those built-in fridges? That’s so cool. Where is it?”

Instead of looking like a complete tool, I’ve turned it into a prank where I “pretend” not to know—the best lies are built on a kernel of truth. Then, just before the silence gets too awkward, I say, “So, I guess we’re ordering dinner tonight,” and start laughing as I walk out of the kitchen while making a mental note to never have them over again because you can’t pull that one off twice.

The funny part is, when planning the house, I didn’t care about the finishes, paint, or how many bathrooms it had. All I wanted was a fridge that would blend seamlessly into the kitchen’s design. And I got exactly what I wanted. I just wish that I knew where to find it.

I even called up the designers the other day to ask where the fridge is, and, in a tone that suggested they thought I was a confused child, they told me, “It’s in the kitchen.” While they didn’t add a “silly” to the end, I know it was implied.

It’s not just the design team mocking me. My smart fridge taunts me from wherever it’s hidden with constant texts saying it needs to be restocked. Which I’d happily do if I had any clue where to put the groceries.

If I’ve learned anything from this ordeal, it’s that being rich can buy you pretty much anything you want, except for the location of your hidden fridge.

At least I have a fully stocked wine cellar to help drown my sorrows. If only I could remember which brick to push to open the secret door.