Thursday, Aug 11th 2005, was an otherwise 'average day' here at the office.

Not that average means much anymore, what with the day-to-day strangeness that tends to ensue around here. Anyway, I remember it as if it were just last Thursday... (face becomes distorted as cliché 'squiggly memory wave transition' begins)

(fade-in)

I was at my desk, (birds chirping - more natural light present than actually available) busy sticking Scotch tape to my monitor in a desperate attempt to merge two Excel documents with one another (expression of genuine frustration, as if truly expected it to work), when none other than Joe Montana strolls by my desk.

"Huh!?" No dramatic rolls out of the pocket, no arms raised in victory above his head—just a casual stroll through our hallowed halls, helping them to become just a little more hallowed. Oh, and contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t walk around in his old Niner’s jersey in public. "What the...? But I..."

...I played it cool—continuing my work. I watched as he passed, of course, making contact with the eyes that followed so many former bovines through the air on their way to anonymous Super Bowl greatness, but, beyond that, I let it go.

Sure, I chatted it up with other employees when I saw them, but I purposefully kept a distance being that 'Joe'—I like to call him Joe—gets the 'fan reaction' all the time. The last thing he needs is another fan walking up, telling him what an inspiration he was to me as a kid, pulling a Sharpie from my sock then asking him to sign my face or something.

"Nah! I'll just let him be.” Well, apparently the other side of the building didn't get the memo.

After watching him exit the same way as he came in—carrying a small load of CLIF products from our warehouse this time (including our new CLIF ZBaR kids' bar!)—someone came over to ask if I'd gotten his autograph.

"Uh, no... I was trying not to bother him," I replied. They then proceeded to tell me about ‘how nice Joe was’ and how there was a whole autograph session going on on the other side of the building—one guy even running out to his trunk to get his Joe Montana retirement t-shirt for signature.

Damn! Oh, well. Next time, maybe. Not sure why he was here, or if he'll be back, but I'm ready to appreciate it for what it was. Extremely cool.

P.S. Joe, I wear a size large jersey.