In case you needed any more proof that Tom Brady’s life is not like yours, he recently posted his post-college graduation resume to his Facebook page. Undoubtedly the only resume Brady will ever need, it’s old enough that it includes "current" and "permanent" addresses. It’s back when Brady was a real person instead of a three-time Super Bowl-winning quarterback with more fame and fortune than you could ever imagine. Aw!
The resume is incredible on its own. It’s so impressive that "guided football team as starting quarterback to 1998 Big Ten Championship and postseason bowl victory" is an afterthought. It's so impressive he doesn’t even namedrop the Citrus Bowl. "Oh, you mean that time I won a postseason bowl game when I threw the winning touchdown pass with three minutes left," Brady said in job interviews, probably.
While in college, Brady interned for two years at Merrill Lynch. If he’d been cut by the Patriots, you just know Brady would have ended up having the perfect little life: He’d slowly rise up the ranks at Merrill Lynch, survive a minor spying scandal at the firm in 2007, dodge any fallout from the financial crisis and somehow leverage Merrill’s acquisition by Bank of America to vault past his rivals into upper management. He’d end up living in a posh New York City suburb with his inevitably powerful and gorgeous wife and their perfect children.
If Tom Brady were a garbageman, he’d be an elite garbageman — a consensus top-10-of-all-time garbageman. His resume would be filled with jobs for all the best waste-management firms. His first job was “managing park security.” Is there anything this man can’t do? Why does Tom Brady have to brag?