Several months ago, one of the largest grocery store chains in the area ran a promotion. They offered customers a sticker, a smaller than postage-sized stamp, for every $10 spent in purchases. Customers could collect these stickers, using a cardboard grid to help keep an accurate count, and redeem their collection for professional grade cookware. Different pieces required different numbers of stickers. The 10” fry pan required 70. A Dutch oven required a different number, and the roaster with rack required a humongous amount. Patrons could redeem cards of stamps throughout the duration of the promotion and up to two weeks after cashiers stopped handing stickers out.

For the most part, I am not a big shopper. I live alone and cook in proportion to the number I have to feed. I am not a Girl Scout troop leader, nor do I fill any other role that would lead me to buy bulk of anything. I don’t even like shopping at this store. (They were the first in Chicago to install self-serve check-outs, something I consider to be a threat to human interaction and civility.)

But I liked the idea of basically free (You had to pay a penny a piece when you turned in your stamps), quality cookware. Adding some non-stick pans to my assortment of kitchen ware became a mission for me, and I knew I had to enlist help.

I asked several people if they shopped at Jewel. If they did but weren’t planning to collect stickers for themselves, I asked them if they could put some stickers to the side for me. I had I assumed the task of doing my mother’s shopping for her some time ago. Knowing that I would be collecting stickers each time I shopped for her made the task feel less like a dreaded obligation.

I redeemed my first card of stickers around Thanksgiving, thanks largely to my sister’s contribution of 28 stickers, propelled by her need to shop for holiday meals. For 100 stickers (and a penny), I got a great stir fry pan with clear lid. A month later, thanks to Jim who had all the cookware he needed and Adam, who bought thirty cans of soup when they were on sale so I could boost my collection, I turned in 70 stickers (and a penny) for a 10” fry pan.

I really had to hustle a little extra for my third piece as the time left on the promotion was running out. I was the benefactor of a couple small check-out line miracles. One day, while shopping for my mother, I had just finished glancing at the tabloids they place near the register so you don’t think about how long you’ve been standing in line. I read about Tom and Katie’s marriage problems and Bradgelina’s last fight. I was in a sort of meditative mindset; alert, but not focusing on anything in particular, when the man two places ahead of me just finished his transaction and announced to everyone within earshot that he wasn’t collecting stamps and would give his away. I quickly volunteered to accept his largess (eight stamps). “There’s a non-stick fry pan out there with my name on it,” I declared. Moments later, the woman directly in front of me gave me hers too.

The other week my friend Jim, with a final contribution of 15 more stickers, helped me pick up my third pan. Not exactly a wreath-wearing thoroughbred after the derby, we took photos of me in the Winner’s Circle, I.e, by the deli counter, to mark the occasion.

Thanks to my friends for saving stickers for me. Thanks to unexpected gifts from the universe (on more than one occasion a check-out line clerk slipped me a few extra). Now I can sauté, simmer, and stir fry in style. And I never thought I would say this, but thanks to Jewel for running the promotion. They made something I had to do fun to do. Of course, it’s extra fun to feel like you’re getting something for nothing, even if it’s only a kitchen item.

Feeling like a winner is no small thing.