TheBakersfieldCalifornian.com

I'm stuck.I need the following: 401, 404, 405, 408, 410, 415, 419, 422, 426, 427, 431, 433, 435, 439, 441, 444, 446, 450, 454, 459, 462, 468, 473, 476, 479 and 483.

Yes, I am stuck and I have been for weeks. I'm in an Albertsons rut. An Albertsons, "Wish Big, Win Big" slump.

I like Albertsons. The floors gleam, the fruit shines and the seafood counter has fresh, delicious salmon. Moreover, the checkers and baggers are pleasant and, on game days, employees wear football jerseys in support of their favorite team.

I've gone from affection to harboring a grudge. I'm working up a bad attitude. A permanent scowl, evidenced by the frown lines between my eyes that makes me think that Botox might not be a bad idea.

I haven't always been like this. I am an optimistic person. I believe that if you have a bad day, a good day will follow.

Not anymore. Now bad days follow bad days like preschool children walking single file to the library holding on to a rope.

Three months ago, I had high hopes. The last game had ended. Albertsons had a new game. Did I want to play?

Why not? I had experienced a moderate level of success in the previous one. I had collected enough stamps to trade in for a nice soup pot. It was Space Age light with a glass top, so that you could watch your soup simmer away.

That was fun. I had earnestly collected the stamps and was awarded kitchenware for my steadfastness. Of course I'll play the new game -- "Wish Big, Win Big." There promised to be thousands of winners. Maybe I'd be one.

I started strong. Every ticket was a good ticket and before long, I found myself one away from winning the following: A $250,000 cash prize, a $50,000 car of my choice, a $50,000 vacation, a $650 iPad, a $100 Albertsons gift certificate, a $5 cash prize and a $2 cash prize.

Not only was I close to winning something life-changing or at least something, but I had three months to do it. Piece of cake. I'd probably win two or three prizes.

Three months later, my hopes have been crushed.

I spend my evenings opening game tickets that friends drop by. There might be 40 or 50 tickets, a veritable pot of riches. Anything is possible with that many.

Anything, that is, but a lousy decent ticket.

I open the tickets and my spirits sink. All duplicates. Soon the stack is exhausted and I lay my head down on the kitchen table and sob.

"Why, God? Why are you doing this to me? Please let me experience the uplift of a moment of victory."

God: "What are you willing to sacrifice? What are you willing to give up? What childish dream are you willing to surrender?"

Me: "Well, for one, the car. Forget the car. The iPad. I don't need an iPad. I'd love to have an iPad, but I guess I'll have to wait until they come down in price and then buy one like everybody else."

God: "I'll give it some thought. Now that Tebow is out of the playoffs, I have some time."

Me: "Dear God, I'd be delighted with the $5 cash prize. Even the $2 one."

God: "Have you thought about entering the sweepstakes? You could win a $1,000 Albertsons shopping spree."

Me: "Enter the sweepstakes? Are you kidding? If I can't win a $2 cash prize, what kind of a chance do I have to win some groceries?"

The other day, Bev, my mother-in-law, dropped off a large yellow envelope that a friend of hers in the Greens had given her. Not only did I find nearly 35 tickets enclosed, but the woman's game board itself.

This felt different. Maybe she had a ticket pasted to the board -- let's say a 415 that would get me that $50,000 car.

She could have, but she didn't. What I saw in her game board was defeat. Surrender. She might as well have written across the top, "I quit."

I should, too, but I can't. I am so close. I have two weeks.

Two weeks to win or think about shopping at Fresh & Easy. Growing my own Honey Nut Cheerios.

Good luck, fellow "Wish Big, Win Big" players. I'll trade a jar of apricot jam for a 422. For 415, we'll take a trip in my new ride with the top down and not look back.

These are the opinions of Herb Benham, not necessarily those of The Californian. Email him at hbenham@bakersfield.com