I occasionally work the door at a local dive bar. If the customers are to be believed, I’m significantly weaker than a great many of them. 400 pound bench presses are quite common among men who apparently achieved this feat and then stayed as far away from a barbell as they could for however long it takes to completely lose the appearance of being a 400 pound bench presser. The lifts I can perform today pale in comparison to the lifts they could perform in the past. It is most humbling to hear these tales.
I’m also most fortunate that my customers do not wish to start trouble, because roughly one quarter of the adult males who walk past me feel the need to tell me about how they used to be bouncers at unnamed bars in distant locations, where Roadhouse was closer to documentary than fiction. The ones that didn’t were simply too deadly to be bouncers.
If tales of athletic feats are to be believed, I’m watching over a room full of deadly beasts each and every night, all of whom are much stronger than they appear, most of whom could death-punch me if I dared look them in the eye.