This story took place a long time ago when I was still a naive rookie eager to discover the mystery of muscle construction.

Summertime was just beginning, and I had a 2-month break from school ahead of me. Sounds good, but it wasn’t. I was at that age when the summer is more of a drag rather than a blessing when you are broke and clueless.

So, what did I do? I started looking for a summer job online.

I didn’t have any qualifications, other than my diploma from the University of Skinny–Fat, and consequently, high-end jobs were not an option for me.

I applied for a mailman/spammer position. The job was fairly simple: you just put brochures in people’s mailboxes.

In a sense, you get paid to walk around the city. What’s not to like, right?

Surprisingly, or maybe not, they called me quickly, and I went for an interview a few days later.

I arrived at the correct address, but there was no office in sight – only an old apartment building from the 70s. I checked the area and a few blocks nearby only to return at the same place.

This time there was a man smoking on the lowest balcony.

“Is this the right address. I am here for the mailman position,” I asked.

“Sure. Go to the door and hit the bell. They will meet you there,” replied the man.

His whole aura was full of what I now call submission to society’s nonsense. This term describes people who have lost all their inner spark and ambition to be anything other than a cogwheel part of the ungrateful system, which is based on one cruel principle – the rich should get richer at all costs while the poor must stay miserable and dumb.

The oppression in the guy’s voice and appearance was almost enough to crush my soul. However, I was young and didn’t want to disappoint my family, so I decided to dive in despite the signs.

The office of the firm was just a dirty apartment on the first floor. As far as I recall, there were two women and one man. The man was the manager. He quickly started talking about the job which was not very complicated – you take a bunch of brochures and spam the hell out of a neighborhood. The guy was one of those “I have the looks to be a movie star, but I was born at the wrong place” kinda of guy. There was an insane amount of despair in his body language and scourge induced suffering on his face.

Also, he had one of those slap magnet faces coupled with a fake voice. Every time I think about this guy, I want to hit something really hard.

“So, when can I start,” I asked without fear.

At this point, I was already convinced that spending time in that depression room was more harmful than a disease.

“You can start today if you want,” replied the man.

The manager gave me about 7,000 brochures the size of a small notebook. I loaded the spam ammo in my backpack and hit the road. I even managed to strain my lower back a little because I didn’t know how to lift heavy stuff with proper form.

As expected, those numskulls sent me in a neighborhood that I didn’t know at all. I had to take an unknown bus and get off at the very last stop. I even had to buy a ticket with my own money.

The mystical location was definitely a problem, but I had to deal with another more important issue beforehand – the war against catabolic processes.

At the time, I was already brainwashing myself with mainstream websites and forums about muscle construction. I knew that there is nothing more important than a steady source of protein throughout the whole day. To cover my needs, I brought a small homemade anabolichalo cocktail consisting of milk and honey mixed in an old 250ml juice bottle. I put some serious prayers into this mixture. I was counting on it to protect my massive musculature. I was 6′ tall and 135lbs at the time.

I had to walk for about 25 minutes to find the bus station, but my mission was somewhat rewarded. On my way to the target zone, l saw the finest set of mammary glands ever. I passed next to one of those sluts that make all males around lose their thoughts.

The journey took about 90 minutes. At noon, I was already ready to spam.

The plan was to cover the whole area in three days. It started great thanks to the energy provided by my anabolic formula.

I even felt lucky to have this job because I was making more money than what my parents were giving me.

“I must be moving up in the world,” I thought after the first 200 brochures.

Ironically, after a few hours of non-stop door to door walking, I started to develop some serious hatred towards the world. People were not particularly nice to me. It turned out that they don’t like spam in their mailboxes. The old ladies were the meanest of them all.

“Do you know what I want to do with guys like you putting junk in my mailbox,” said one of the ancient bitches I met.

“What?”

“I want to take all your paper and put it in your mouth till you choke,” she said.

“Who do you think will be paying your pension in the future, communist witch, ” I said silently to myself.

By 8 p.m. I had distributed about 2,343 brochures and decided to go home. It took me about 2 hours to get back because I had to cross the whole neighborhood one more time to reach the bus station.

It was pretty safe to assume that l was going through a catabolic day.

At that point, my heart was full of profound hate for every living cell around me. I wanted to set the whole world on fire. I felt exploited, but the bigger problem was that this job was eating my muscles. The thought that I had to endure two more days of this torture was pumping boiling blood straight through my heart. A nice weekend consisting of 22 hours of non-stop walking was on the horizon. I had to prepare accordingly.

I logged online and asked my personal Oracle called google how to prevent catabolic processes.

As a result, I learned about the so-called anabolic window and the importance of feeding your body with nutrients after exercise.

Since it was already late, and the stores were closed, I had no choice but to prepare more of my homemade anabolic madness. I prepared three bottles. The plan was simple – one bottle before work and the other two no longer than 30 minutes after the job.

I really wanted to hit my anabolic window precisely and brought a compact alarm clock in my backpack. In case you are wondering, I didn’t have a cell phone. This happened a few years before babies started receiving personal phones after 6 months of vertical existence.

Those two days were torture, but I got the job done. Also, I used the bottles exactly as planned. This put my mind at ease.

My total paycheck was 14 dollars. I did 2 more campaigns over the next two months and collected about 40 dollars. Guess what I did with the money? I bought my first adjustable dumbbell. The whole thing totaled 5 kilos. I did some epic biceps curls which left me sore for a week. I couldn’t extend my elbows during the first few days.

Without a doubt, I will never forget this experience because it taught me about anabolic windows and doors.

Today, I feel sorry for the naive kids who fall for the very same scare tactics supported by the supplement cartels.

The truth is that anabolic windows are not really as important as you may think. The body is not ultra-fragile. You are not going to lose your muscles if you miss a meal or two. That’s a fact, and you can test its validity for yourself anytime you want. Postpone your post workout meal for a few hours and keep it that way for 3 months. Guess, what? You are still going to look exactly the same.

P.S. The post revealing the natty potential has been updated.