Author: Darko Soković

24November2024
by Darko Soković

The Gold Standard of Change

Blog

I watched the final episode of “Jutro će promeniti sve” the other night. It left me heavy-hearted all evening. Unassuming yet monumental for our television, for our generation. The way Vlada Tagić and Goran Stanković laid bare their souls—heart, fears, rawest emotions—then, with their team of genius creators, turned it into a golden landmark of our time through a format never before seen on Serbian TV… that’s not just a creative triumph. It hit deeper. Maybe because I, too, am in my thirties. Maybe because I, too, am a director who had the honor of studying alongside Goran and looking up to him.

Because this series is also an ode to the only certainty our generation has: nothing is certain, and change is the only constant. Solid, unshakable foundations? Those exist only “once upon a time” and “somewhere far away.”

Corporate Gold Dust vs. Millennial Fluidity

Unlike the fluidity that defines both the series and millennials at large, corporate Belgrade is painfully predictable—one thing in particular. If you haven’t attended a New Year’s cocktail “for partners, friends, and loyal clients,” a company gathering “to celebrate successes,” or an awards ceremony “for excellence,” if you haven’t clinked champagne glasses or dusted yourself with golden confetti in a luxury hotel ballroom these past few weeks—well, you might as well not exist in the corporate world.

But beneath the glitter and small talk, something else has crept into business conversations: a foggy uncertainty about the future, a nagging doubt, an undefined gut feeling that things keep changing—and we don’t fully grasp them. Almost everyone (if not literally everyone) complained about “a tough year.” A sluggish market, heavy taxes, unpaid invoices, and—perhaps most glaring—the Sisyphean struggle to find good candidates and the Golgotha of retaining great employees.

What Employees Really Want (Spoiler: It’s Not Just Money)

Employees aren’t hiding what they expect from employers: 80% are actively job-hunting. (As a thirty-something employer hiring my own generation, I’ve always believed my core responsibility is to help my team succeed in their careers—even if that means somewhere else. I celebrate everyone’s wins.) And when they do find a job, they want stability, great interpersonal dynamics, but above all—flexible hours. Oh, and private health checks and salaries over 80k, if possible. Yet 80% still consider switching jobs! Rinse and repeat. As one of Serbia’s top editors put it: “What the hell else do you people want?!”

We’ve learned from the best to ask bold questions—and answer them even bolder. So here goes:
We want, damn it, better employers! We want the values we cherish in life to spill over into work. Because the “8 hours of work, rest, and sleep” formula is practically prehistoric—hell, even “work-life balance” is outdated. Now, we’re talking about life-work integration, a single, fluid existence where work is a big part—but built on freedom, creativity, and flexibility. You’ve got to reinvent what responsibility toward your people even means!

Who Gets It?

Few. Goran Stanković and Vlada Tagić, absolutely. But some in business do, too. Take Olga Svoboda and her GI Grupa, this year’s best employer among SMEs. Or Manpower, the industry leader in Serbia, steered by my generation’s Aleksandar Hangimana. Or their peer Dušan Basalo (partner at Atrija and the driving force behind SAM’s mentorship program). What sector are they in? Human resources, of course. They know where to look and what to change—because they’re the best at what they do, often before the rest of us even catch on.

What We Really Want

We want jobs that aren’t gilded cages, but springboards. We’re fine with stumbling as we move, building homes on shifting ground. We want employers who understand us like “Jutro” did—or maybe we don’t. And that’s okay, too. That’s the relationship we need now. So 2019 can be the golden year—our year. The year of change.

29December2023
by Darko Soković

Enter Freely

Blog

In the heart of the Balkans, where the spirit of Sarajevo and Belgrade intertwines with our business endeavors, lies a tale of deep-rooted affection. These cities, where we’ve grown and created wonders, have long been the backdrop to our fleet of vehicles, proudly bearing the “VW” emblem – a symbol, if not of Balkan patriotism, then I’m at a loss for what is!

Yet, in a twist of fate, humor turned to gravity when Russia’s invasion of Ukraine sent shockwaves across the globe. I’ve written here about the collective fear gripping us – a fear of famine, shortages, and the crumbling of the global system as we know it. This anxiety paralyzed decision-makers in world forums. My colleagues and I were not immune, with the Balkan flair adding an extra layer of uncertainty.

The question loomed: Is the Western Balkans truly on the European path, or are we caught in limbo? Can we maintain a delicate balance in this geopolitical tightrope walk? Are we “here” or “there”? Does Europe even want us? Are we entering or merely pretending? These questions have always been a tightrope walk for us, now more than ever. We envisioned a business horror scenario, one that had already befallen our creative peers in Moscow and St. Petersburg: arriving at work to find Facebook, Instagram, Dropbox, Slack, Google services, cards, and global financial transactions – all the lifelines to the global economy – suddenly inaccessible.

Thus, a decision was made. It was time to alter the DNA of our organization, to transform Propulsion, this defiant speck of golden dust, into a European player, not just in ambition and clientele, but in pedigree. This meant establishing a European hub and transferring all assets, licenses, and rights to this new entity. We delved into a thorough analysis of legal, tax, and living conditions across the European Union, consulting with lawyers, advisors, and accountants. This led us to an unexpected player: the country quietly making giant strides, known in their tongue as the Slovak Republic. To quell any pan-Slavic fervor, we simply call it Slovakia.

In the early 90s, this small nation emerged on the international stage as an independent state after the Velvet Divorce of an asymmetrical federation. This separation marked the beginning of Slovakia’s economic transformation, transitioning from a planned to a market economy. High unemployment rates, inflation, and the urgent need for a new regulatory and institutional framework characterized this journey.

We all know the state of affairs in our region during the 90s. Yet, by 1997, Slovakia and Serbia stood shoulder to shoulder in terms of gross domestic product: Slovakia produced around 27 billion dollars, and we produced slightly over 25 billion. We started from similar positions, but where are they now, and where are we?

A pivotal moment in Slovakia’s history was its accession to the European Union in 2004. Membership immediately opened new markets, increased foreign direct investment, and provided structural funds for development. The country underwent rigorous economic reforms, focusing on privatization, liberalization, and improving the business environment, laying the foundation for a more dynamic, competitive, and diverse economy.

The pride and joy of Slovakia’s economic prosperity is undoubtedly its automotive industry. The country attracted major global players like Volkswagen, Kia, and Peugeot, earning the title of the world’s largest car producer per capita. One of Volkswagen’s three Slovak plants alone spans two million square meters, the only factory in the world producing four different brands under one roof: luxury VW SUVs, Audi Q7 and Q8, Porsche Cayenne, and the latest Škodas, with 99% of its production exported, primarily to China, the USA, and Germany. (Our fleet of VWs might have been a premonition of our destined connection with Slovakia!)

Beyond automobiles, and despite political differences, successive Slovak governments have invested in an economy focused on education, research, and development, creating a nurturing environment for all high-tech sectors. The introduction of the Euro and entry into the Schengen Area rounded off Slovakia’s success story as a small yet ambitious economic powerhouse (steering clear of the ‘tiger’ title, which is closer to home for some).

We in the Balkans often toss around the terms ‘small’ and ‘big’, so let’s look at the numbers in comparison to Slovakia: this year, the six economies of the Western Balkans will generate goods and services worth about 154 billion dollars, nearly half of which will be from Serbia. For the eighteen million of us in the region, it’s not a bad figure. However, it pales in comparison to the performance of five and a half million Slovaks: their GDP in 2023 will be a staggering 85% of the Balkan total, amounting to over 133 billion dollars. Let’s not delve into per capita calculations – why dampen the holiday spirit? Instead, let’s share some exciting news from the entertainment world.

Sometime in late May, Lepa Brena will hold a grand concert in Bratislava. I was told I was among the first ten to purchase tickets for this spectacle, a fact I take great pride in because who would want to miss it if she arrived by helicopter again! But even if her entrance is less glamorous, it raises the question: is our place in the European Union? We might not have a definitive answer for the Balkans, but for Propulsion, there’s no doubt: “Uđi slobodno” (Enter Freely), as evident to Brena as it is to Europeans.

5December2023
by Darko Soković

One Percent

Blog

The ceiling above every desk, hallway, meeting room, restaurant, and lounge in Facebook’s offices worldwide looks the same—a tangle of massive ventilation ducts wrapped in aluminum foil, snaking cables, routers, switches, bare lighting and sound wires, all held together by an exposed metal skeleton. This industrial-chosen aesthetic carries the signature of Frank Gehry, the starchitect behind Bilbao’s Guggenheim Museum and LA’s Walt Disney Concert Hall. Even in Facebook’s sprawling Dublin campus—which recently became the company’s global headquarters, inheriting the crown from Menlo Park (tax incentives likely playing a role)—Gehry’s raw design persists.

At first glance, you might wonder—why couldn’t Gehry just install proper ceilings? Maybe some elegant plaster moldings like in any self-respecting Balkan home, with halogen lights on dimmers for ambiance?

“Absolutely not,” explains one of Facebook’s lead systems engineers as we walk beneath kilometers of exposed infrastructure in their Dublin nerve center. His Sarajevo accent—somewhere between Marin Dvor and Skenderija—colors his words. “A finished ceiling was never an option,” he says. “This design embodies a core message—that our mission is only one percent complete.” Founder Mark Zuckerberg wants employees reminded of this every time they look up.

Consider this: Facebook’s services recently surpassed 2.8 billion monthly active users. Yet in Zuckerberg’s vision of “connecting everyone on Earth,” this staggering number represents just… one percent. The implication is clear—there’s work left for generations.

This philosophy fuels Facebook’s obsessive efforts to attract and retain top talent, especially systems engineers—the backbone of any tech giant. My Bosnian guide, who oversees three European data centers, always flies business class on Facebook’s dime—a privilege not even extended to all executives. The campus boasts Michelin-starred chefs serving free meals (vegan, halal, you name it), an industrial-scale laundry service returning folded clothes by afternoon, and relocation teams handling everything from visas to apartment hunting.

Healthcare includes on-site psychologists, occupational doctors, and 24/7 telemedicine with global coverage. The company funds IVF treatments and surrogacy. Childcare centers, yoga studios, jiujitsu dojos—every conceivable perk exists.

“Do you actually use all this?” I ask.
“Never have time,” he admits without looking up from his phone.

Of course not. These luxuries exist precisely so employees never need to leave. Facebook hires about 700 people weekly worldwide (70 in Ireland alone), though they’re quieter about attrition rates. Where would anyone go? To another tech giant? The global job market suddenly seems very small.

“Did you consider working elsewhere?”
“Only here. Google’s too geeky. We serve a real social purpose.”

For this Sarajevo native, Facebook’s employer branding worked perfectly. The mission resonates. Though after spending days immersed in their world, I realize—like their ceiling design suggests—they’ve barely begun. One percent down.

20August2021
by Darko Soković

You’re Not Alone

Blog

The company I run will celebrate its tenth anniversary this January. Of course, I remember everything—how the idea first came to us, what others told us (“Don’t do it, kids, are you out of your minds?!”), how we knew nothing yet thought we knew everything. That’s just how it goes. I remember it all, but from the comfort of my office chair now, I can’t quite summon that feeling—the one that made us unbuckle all our safety belts, take the leap, and say, “That’s it, we’re doing this.” How did we manage to make every decision, somehow push through the hardest moments? Honestly, I couldn’t even make up a simple, motivational answer if I tried.

How are decisions even made? When you don’t have hard data or deep insights, you rely on gut feeling, experience, and sheer stubbornness—survive now, analyze later. That’s how we’ve somehow made it to a decade (January is still a ways off, admittedly), and that’s how countless other small, medium, and even some big businesses I know have done it too. Among the many quirks of our homeland, one of the most stressful is that barely anyone knows what tomorrow will bring, let alone five or ten years from now.

That’s why it’s been hard to adjust to a new, yet painfully logical reality we’ve been implementing in our business and sharing with others: we now invest enormous effort and resources into truly understanding the people we’re speaking to—their habits, needs, ideas, values, how they consume information, how they entertain themselves, how they celebrate. In the communications business, these insights are practically our lifeblood, but they’re becoming unavoidable for everyone.

Here’s an exclusive for loyal readers: 44% of Serbian teens aged 12–17 have a TikTok account. What does that mean for you as a parent? What does it mean for you as a leader? Will you be among those mothers and fathers who recently lost their minds when a Belgrade municipality invited a successful athlete (who also happens to be a TikToker) to give a school lecture? The kids, of course, went wild—the parents were scandalized. And while you or I may not have even heard of TikTok a year or so ago, 2% of our citizens now say it’s their primary source of news about the world around them. “No big deal,” you might say—and I’d agree, if the data didn’t also show that only 3% rely on Twitter (yes, that blue hive of “layabouts and latte-sippers” whose soundbites regularly end up on A3 posters printed in full color and brought into TV studios by the president).

The most trusted news source? Online portals (24%). Traditional print media? A measly 2%. (What a paradox that I’m writing this in a magazine.) But here’s the kicker: 4% of Serbians place the most trust in influencers.

When it comes to social media, Facebook still dominates—60% of people use it daily—followed by YouTube and Instagram. Over 60% of our citizens are on Viber. These numbers come from the extensive Media and Digital Literacy in Serbia study conducted by CeSID for Propulsion. The research, carried out over the past 12 months with a sample of 1,500 citizens (plus employees in public administration, businesses, media houses, universities, students, and influencers), was published just days ago at the end of September.

A few more fresh insights I wish we’d had when starting our business – if you’re planning a social media presence, know that almost no one scrolls the news feed on Facebook or Instagram anymore. What’s catching attention instead? Instagram Stories, which about 40% of Serbians exclusively watch rather than browsing traditional feeds. Messaging apps are dominating too, with a whopping 83% actively using Facebook Messenger for daily communication. And in an interesting twist, Facebook Groups are staging a major comeback, currently being used by 46% of our citizens for everything from local community discussions to niche interest groups.

These figures become even more significant when you consider they represent our general population – not just the tech-savvy or social media power users. That’s exactly why we’ve gone beyond surface-level reporting and published everything in far greater detail at novapismenost.rs. We’re firm believers that reliable data – the kind that should drive real business and policy decisions – needs to be freely available to everyone who needs it: from entrepreneurs and marketers to media professionals, government institutions, educators, influencers, and really anyone trying to navigate our rapidly evolving digital landscape.

Crucially, these figures represent the general population—not just internet or social media users. That’s why we’ve published everything in far greater detail at novapismenost.rs, because we believe reliable data—the kind that drives real decisions—should be available to everyone: businesses, media, institutions, communicators, influencers, and society at large.

How we receive information, from whom, and how we process it to make decisions have become the most critical skills we—as responsible individuals, whether in private life or business—must master. Otherwise, someday, they might write about us as “former giants brought to their knees,” who “failed to adapt to the new era.”

Is it hard? For me and my team too, believe me. But we have to. And don’t worry—you’re not alone.

14December2020
by Darko Soković

The Faculty of Dramatic Arts

Blog

The smell of coffee and ratluk pastries. Brutal concrete beams and pebbles trapped in cement. Grand lobbies and dimly lit studios, offices and labs. If you’ve never been, this is your first impression of the Faculty of Dramatic Arts in New Belgrade.

A well-meaning observer might say “there’s no accounting for taste,” and for casual small talk, they’d be right. But for a higher education institution where aesthetics—both as discipline and skill—are conditio sine qua non, taste is everything. Yet what strikes you about FDU isn’t its somewhat faded, time-warped architecture, but rather the substance being studied inside.

I’m sitting with Miloš Pavlović, the dean, and Ana Martinoli, the vice-dean, in his office. I’m pitching potential collaborations between our young company and their 70-year-old institution—media literacy, digital skills, influencer projects, social responsibility initiatives, YouTube content. They listen, silent. Across the long, dark table, plaques and awards are lined up, the most prominent being the Vuk Award. It’s easy to feel self-assured facing what seems like an old-guard institution.

Founded post-war as the Academy of Theatre Arts, the school quickly realized that theatre alone couldn’t cover the rapidly evolving media landscape. So in the 70s, it rebranded as the Faculty of Dramatic Arts (theatre, film, radio, and television). My hosts point this out, then start talking about video games, transmedia art, critical thinking, and their students’ competitiveness in the job market.

What Ana and Miloš are really describing is how an institution expected to embody stability adapts to chaotic times. And this isn’t just trial and error—FDU has codified its approach.

The faculty routinely demands innovation from new students, ensuring they grasp the zeitgeist. They’ve updated curricula to reflect media evolution, launching master’s programs like Digital Transformation of Media and Culture and Advertising and Media, while hosting conferences on political, democratic, and cultural shifts. They don’t shy from the everyday—they prepare students to thrive in it.

How does FDU know where to position itself? By embedding axioms into its strategy:

  • “If it’s about gaming, it’s about our students.”

  • “We don’t look down on competitors (even private ones)—we learn from them.”

  • “In the region, this faculty is a hub.”

The results speak for themselves. FDU is the most prestigious school of its kind in the region, a magnet for gaming industry giants, and recently secured an Epic Games grant to develop a new program in animation, VFX, and game art.

During the pandemic (and long before), FDU improvised—successfully. “We value every chance to break routine, so we’re not afraid to experiment,” they tell me. This ethos is formalized in their Interactive Arts Lab, where hackathons, gamification, VR, and AI have become part of the school’s DNA.

What Ana, Miloš, and their colleagues are doing isn’t just a knack for crisis adaptation. It’s a toolkit for navigating chaos, echoing strategies Fernando F. Suarez and Juan S. Montes outlined in Harvard Business Review: well-systematized routines, simple heuristic rules, and structured improvisation. These can take you to Everest’s summit—or, in FDU’s case, to another inevitable rebranding.

But they’re not the only ones who need a new name.

If we lead our companies through perpetual crisis with the same agility, we’re all ripe to become Faculties of Dramatic Arts.

So—what kind of dean are you for your own FDU?

11November2020
by Darko Soković

Leadership for All

Blog

Leadership isn’t optional – it’s every young person’s duty

If you’ve traveled around the former Yugoslav countries at all, you know conversations with people don’t go as badly as you might initially think. In these chats, the “us vs them” divide isn’t nearly as strong as in the media, or when we’re not together. We often unconsciously make concessions to avoid potentially offending “the other side” – how many times have you called your language “ours” for exactly this reason? And although we all know, consciously or not, who’s responsible for everything that happened, these conversations usually end with some variation of “Who the hell turned us against each other?!” After we hug it out, we typically arrive at the same layman’s consensus: if anything can save us all, it’ll be the youth, the economy, and knowledge.

We’re not the first to think this way in a post-war context. After WWII in 1948, young people from seven European countries came together determined to do everything possible to prevent such conflicts from happening again. They hoped, you see, that they could change the world – one person at a time. Thus was born the Association internationale des étudiants en sciences économiques et commerciales, an international association of economics and business students. Today we know these brilliant young people as AIESEC – the world’s largest youth-led organization, present in 126 countries with nearly 40,000 members, and at least that many more participating in their programs each year.

Impressive. They want to prevent wars, clearly, but what do they actually do there? You sign up and…?

The story of AIESEC is actually a story about leadership. Simply put, difficult times demand a special set of skills from young people to help them navigate an increasingly complex and changing world. This was true in the mid-20th century, and it’s especially true today. Without these skills, it’s impossible to stay relevant in any field. We’re talking about things like:

  • Teamwork skills where you can both lead and follow, while understanding how the team as a whole contributes to set goals

  • Goal-setting – determining necessary resources, who can do what, timelines, and separating personal interests from project interests

  • Communication skills – being able to clearly, unambiguously and focused articulate thoughts and inspire others to action

  • Personal integrity, self-awareness and respect that translates to professionalism, personal responsibility and business acumen

These skills, I believe, were crucial for the global elite that emerged from AIESEC and similar post-war European movements. Today however, AIESEC members say leadership isn’t optional – it’s every young person’s obligation. That’s why their international volunteer, entrepreneurship and talent internship programs focus on developing exactly these skills through structured, multi-month approaches in collaboration with top companies.

AIESEC Serbia is known even outside business circles for at least two projects bigger than themselves: what ambitious young person in Serbia hasn’t heard of – or participated in – Career Days? Who among those with something meaningful to say hasn’t spoken at their annual New Leaders conference or at least dreamed of being there?

AIESEC’s Belgrade office was founded at the Faculty of Economics back in 1953 and long ago stopped being just for econ students. They’re active in Niš, Novi Sad, Kragujevac, across all faculties, and they’re just getting started with big plans for Serbia. Despite this impressive history, “AIESECers” are everywhere today – leading key departments in companies, in executive positions, as leaders in public administration or running their own ventures.

Many HR managers will tell you: seeing AIESEC on a CV is a valuable and important recommendation signaling you’re dealing with a dead-serious candidate. These young people – and I’ve personally confirmed this many times – thirst for knowledge and achievement. When we as employers give them that chance, they repay it many times over – to themselves, to us, to the company and the community.

Usually all we need to do is point them to opportunities – AIESECers are trained to grab them. Just watch them go.

9March2020
by Darko Soković

The Case of Milan J.

Blog

There are a few unexpected gurus from public life whose wisdom—filtered through my own values and context—I turn to when making big decisions. Some are underrated politicians, leaders, the odd tycoon, globe-trotting entrepreneurs, showbiz wizards, obscure lyricists… you name it. One of them is Jadranka Kosor, the woman who, during her brief tenure as Croatia’s prime minister, managed to spectacularly root out corruption in her own party, stabilize regional tensions, broker a “personal trilateral” with neighboring presidents, unblock EU negotiations stalled by Slovenia for years, and practically usher Croatia into the European Union—all without fanfare and without the recognition she deserved from the Croatian and regional public.

Recently, I heard that our former colleague Milan J. was inquiring about a newly opened position at our company. Milan had always been close with Jasmina R., a current team member, and over their usual after-work glass of wine, he asked if we’d consider rehiring him. Jasmina wasn’t sure, so she told him she’d “look into it”—the polite corporate non-answer. (Names and details here are fictional, but the scenario is stitched together from real situations over the past decade.)

At the management meeting, we debated Milan’s potential return. “No one can leave and yet stay, nor stay and yet leave,” I recalled Jadranka Kosor’s Pythian remark from 2010, when she blocked a former PM’s attempted comeback with an iron fist. Should we take the same hardline stance? Opinions were split. “What’s done is done—wish him well, but his time here is over,” argued one side.

The Boomerang Employee Dilemma

Our conundrum isn’t unique. 85% of HR managers in the U.S. have fielded applications from “boomerang employees”—former staffers seeking to return—and 40% have rehired at least half of them, according to Employee Engagement studies. Most executives say these applications carry weight, yet only 1 in 10 flat-out refuses to consider a return. No such stats exist here, but you know how it goes: in Serbia’s tight-knit marketing, media, NGO, and international org circles, the same faces rotate like a carousel.

Former employees offer clear advantages: they know your business, culture, team, and clients, requiring minimal ramp-up time. They’re often cheaper to rehire, especially if they left on good terms—chasing growth, not running from failure.

At our meeting, egos flared: “A second chance? We’re not the Red Cross!” But reason soon prevailed: We’d invested heavily in Milan J. We taught him the intricacies of event management, how to help big companies craft (and monetize) a social mission with measurable impact, how to rally communities around these programs, how to draft winning tenders against international rivals. Most crucially, we trained him to think critically in line with our values—where the client isn’t always right just because they’re paying, and where profit and purpose aren’t mutually exclusive. That last part is devilishly hard to instill—and with Milan, we’d succeeded.

The Ego’s Last Stand

I thanked Jasmina for relaying the message. The conclusion? Our investment in Milan demanded openness to his return. But accepting that wasn’t easy—the ego is every leader’s fiercest opponent.

“Will I accept the decision? What does ‘accept’ even mean? Should I slit my wrists?” —Jadranka Kosor’s words in 2013, when (yet again) she had to bend to realpolitik and outmaneuver her own pride.

I called Milan J. myself to set up an informal coffee the next day. We’ll see if it’s true that no one is truly irreplaceable—or if some gaps never really close.

31January2020
by Darko Soković

Just a Little More

Blog

“So what are you working on these days? What’s on your mind?”

This is usually my go-to question when meeting friends, acquaintances, or business partners—partly because I’m genuinely curious, and partly because everyone loves talking about themselves. I listen to an update or two, they return the question, and then we move on to whatever brought us together in the first place.

But it didn’t go quite so smoothly when I met Vladislav Radak the other day at Bonn. While waiting for him, I vaguely remembered him from RTS’s Program for Youth, where I’d first seen him back in 2008. At the time, he’d just published his first novel—or was it several? “What a pretentious guy,” I’d thought back then. (I’d thought this, mind you, while working on a similar program—just on radio.) Later, I caught him at a TEDx talk arguing that “math just has bad PR,” and his name kept popping up in other contexts I couldn’t quite place. So I did what anyone would do—I Googled him. Novelist, mathematician, classical musician… and then an agency report: “Radak wins prestigious award in New York for best young director for a film he made at 18, for which he also wrote the script and music.” Come on, you can’t just go around calling yourself a director like that! (Though I’d proudly declared myself one on day one—no, hour one—after enrolling in film school.) And just like that, Google helped me cement my impression of this “pretentious guy”—another former youth show host and self-proclaimed director—before he’d even arrived.

“So what are you working on? What’s on your mind?”

For the next few hours, we dissected career highs and lows, workplace challenges and solutions, but mostly how life is hard, unfair, and generally devoid of perspective. At some point, I had to stop and think: Vladislav now works as a consultant at one of the world’s top firms and teaches at TU Dortmund. He’s happily married. And I’m no slouch in the achievements department either. So what the hell is the problem?

What connects us isn’t just our past careers—it’s our generation. Millennials. And not just any millennials, but the kind who started serious work before adulthood, achieved results, and now live lives we’ve chosen and built ourselves. Yet none of that has stopped us from sharing the same existential dread as our peers.

Globally, 73% of millennials don’t believe political elites have any positive impact on world affairs. A third of those surveyed across 42 countries don’t trust traditional media as a source of information. And the 2019 Deloitte Millennial Survey, published this May, paints a bleak picture: young people worldwide are disillusioned with institutions, distrust companies and their motives, and are overwhelmingly pessimistic about socioeconomic progress. Only 26% believe their country’s economic situation will improve in the next year. Half have no confidence in their personal finances and would quit their current job in a heartbeat.

All of this echoes in our conversation. Suddenly, the “pretentious guy” across from me feels like someone I fundamentally understand. Maybe because we both went through struggles far beyond our years early on, and now, in our thirties, we have the time and luxury to lament fate. (Said lament, by the way, happens in a swanky 17th-floor bar overlooking the Rhine, where neither of us asks how much anything costs or who’s paying as we order drink after drink. Turns out existential dread is more of a generational quirk than an actual crisis.)

“So what are you working on? What’s on your mind?”

“On myself. Every day,” I say. On trying to see where I am and what I have as success—on not letting the creeping sense of doom that seems to curse millennials ruin my life, plans, career, relationships. With that, we toast—me and Vladislav, the wunderkind from Palilula. I don’t say a word in the Uber back to my hotel, thinking maybe we should’ve had one more drink. That would’ve been… just right.

Is this my life now? Forever feeling like success is “just a little more” out of reach? The worry cuts deep. But then again—it’s all up to me.

28January2020
by Darko Soković

Who’s Your Athena?

Blog

Mentorship must ‘stir a man to greater strength and put courage in his heart.’

“No longer, Telemachus, will you be foolish or weak,
if the bold courage of your father has taken root in your heart—
the same courage with which he fought and spoke.
Then your journey will not fail, nor will it be in vain.”

These words, from the second book of Homer’s Odyssey (in Toma Maretić’s famed translation), are spoken by Mentor—Odysseus’ old friend—to the hero’s son, Telemachus. Before setting sail, Odysseus entrusted Mentor with “his whole household, to guard all things steadfastly.” But he also gave him something far more precious: his son. Mentor’s task was to embolden the boy, to guide him on a heroic path, to be a second father.

And 2,800 years later, this remains one of the purest definitions of mentorship. Odysseus was gone for two decades, yet his trust was so absolute that a single name became synonymous with an entire noble calling. Mentorship is crucial for anyone striving to advance—not just in their career, but in life itself.

Why Mentorship Wins

Over two-thirds of Fortune 500 companies have mentorship programs. Their employees are five times more likely to get promoted, and long-term retention jumps by 20%. For millennials, the numbers are even starker: half are more likely to stay past five years if their company offers strong mentorship (Deloitte Millennial Survey, 2016).

And it’s not just for beginners. A Harvard Business Review study (Suzanne de Janasz & Maury Peiperl) found that 84% of U.S. CEOs credit mentors with helping them avoid costly mistakes, while 69% say they make better decisions because of them.

Serbia’s Mentorship Stars

Even here, we have standout programs. Two of the best—run by the American Chamber of Commerce and the Serbian Association of Managers (SAM)—target young managers and final-year business students. Hundreds have passed through these programs, gaining skills, networks, and market savvy from mentors they’d otherwise never access: tech experts, corporate leaders, communication gurus. Recently, SAM even opened mentorship to exceptional entrepreneurs and startup founders—a chance the first two cohorts seized eagerly. Combined, these programs have reached nearly 500 young talents and seasoned professionals.

The Catch: Mentorship Isn’t About Numbers

But mentorship is more than metrics. Take The Odyssey itself: by the time the epic really gets going, Mentor has already failed. Odysseus’ house is overrun by Penelope’s suitors, the storerooms are looted, Telemachus flees by sea, and Mentor? Nowhere to be found. So why, then, do we name this role after such a lackluster figure?

The answer hides in the text: “Athena took Mentor’s form, his voice, his very frame.” Though Mentor had the credentials—age, wisdom, noble birth—it was Athena, goddess of wisdom, disguised as him, who truly stirred Telemachus’ courage.

The Real Lesson

Being a mentor isn’t about titles or experience. It’s about becoming the vessel—the “Athena”—who helps someone discover their own menos (heroic strength), shatter their self-imposed limits, and find courage they didn’t know they had. As Athena herself says, mentorship exists to “stir a man to greater strength and put courage in his heart.”

So—who’s your Athena? And whose will you be?

21October2019
by Darko Soković

Memories

Blog

Not many people I know dislike Facebook’s Memories feature. Partly because, let’s face it, we’re suckers for nostalgia—we love seeing where we were and what we were doing with people we care about. But also because it’s a brutally honest archive of how our own attitudes and public persona have evolved over time. Facebook has logged every step of my career: back in 2008, when I first made my account, I was an eager directing school grad, full of activist defiance, bouncing around in vans and crossing regional borders, torn between wanting to do everything right then and there and build something concrete in my field. It wasn’t easy. “A disheveled director with a radio show”—that’s how someone described me back then.

How do we know, when we walk into a room, that people recognize us? And more importantly—is it for what we want to be known, or just what our career has thrown at us? We’re talking, of course, about personal branding. Like any brand, this one has its visible form—name, job title, first impression—but also the subtler layers of meaning and emotion that flash in people’s minds when they hear about you.

The advice for building a personal brand is well-known but not always easy to follow. “Be authentic, consistent, and tell your story,” writes Goldie Chan for Forbes. People spot insincerity fast, so it’s best to start honest from the jump. Of course, that doesn’t mean much if your name isn’t built on solid ground. Expertise in your field, sharp focus on where you want to be recognized, and ruthless selectivity about the opportunities you take—those are non-negotiable.

When it comes to corporate social responsibility (CSR), being known in this space isn’t just about picking the right cause—it’s about approach. Are we investing company money and resources because that’s just what you do, or are we going further because we want CSR to be part of our personal brand? In an internal survey from three years ago—conducted for a major corporate program supporting creatives and activists, designed by my team—nearly 60% of participants ranked mentorship as the most valuable part. (Multiple answers were allowed, so presenting their work to a wider community mattered to over half, while almost 40% said meeting like-minded peers was crucial.) Dead last, at under 10%, was the financial support—which, in this case, wasn’t small (around €5,000 per idea).

Realizing that knowledge is the key—and that sharing it actively shapes how you’re seen—was a game-changer for me and my team. It gave us the confidence to push companies to give more than just money: to invest their employees’ expertise and inspire creativity in the communities they engage with. People in these programs became genuine ambassadors for the brands that supported them. Together with corporate partners, we tested this strategy once, then again, then dozens of times—first in one country, then many. Each time, we dissected the results and learned as fast as we could. And we didn’t stop.

For every ten opportunities my team and I could take, we’ve been choosing just two or three for years now. “Innovation,” “knowledge and mentorship,” “CSR,” “social impact campaigns,” “relentless,” “regional”—these are the phrases we now hear from collaborators describing us. A far cry from activist radio shows and gritty films—and yet, to me at least, it feels like a natural progression. When I open Memories in 2029, what impressions will dominate then? No idea. Will these current ones just be wistful relics, replaced by something entirely new? That’s the only thing I’m sure of.