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 yearour year. The year of change.

5December2023

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.

No one forces IT leaders to be decent, dedicated, and invested in their people’s growth—they choose to be.

Every day, we could write about people leaving the country, and it still wouldn’t be enough. Over 60% of young people under 30 say they’ve considered leaving Bosnia and Herzegovina for good. The numbers are so staggering it’s hard to grasp what strategies could possibly reverse this trend. The labor shortage is painfully real. Last school year, fewer than 3,000 students graduated high school in Sarajevo Canton—compared to 4,500 in 2012.

Fewer students are enrolling in Sarajevo’s universities, and their fields of study are shifting. A decade ago, social sciences and humanities were at their peak; today, it’s medicine and technical faculties. A large number of graduates find their future jobs in information technology and communications, proving that BiH’s economy hasn’t remained immune to the global demand for software solutions. Local entrepreneurs saw this as a massive opportunity—and they weren’t wrong. Simply put, the Balkans can produce top-tier software and export it to developed countries at a fraction of the cost compared to Western Europe or the U.S.

This sector is among the fastest-growing in BiH, expanding by over 70% in the last five years. The Statistics Agency reports more than 1,200 IT firms operating in the country, where net salaries are 50% higher than the Federation average, and the sector exports around 65 million BAM annually. Sarajevo Canton alone hosts over 250 IT companies employing roughly 2,500 people. Within a few years, that number is expected to exceed 6,000, according to research by the Bit Alliance, the association representing the biggest IT players. That means two entire graduating classes from Sarajevo’s high schools won’t be enough to fill all the IT job openings.

These are impressive numbers for an industry that requires no heavy infrastructure—just computers, internet, intelligence, and algorithmic logic (thankfully, we have plenty of that, thanks to exceptional individuals). The formula is simple: let these people work, and they’ll handle the rest.

The IT industry is also growing thanks to returnees from the diaspora. Some of the biggest companies were founded by those who left BiH and later came back. The founders of Mistral, Authority Partners, and ZenDev are well-known faces in the sector. These people didn’t just build successful businesses—they brought back new workplace practices that have fundamentally transformed the traditional employer-employee dynamic here. They offer top-tier working conditions, send employees for training, pay above-average salaries (along with some of the highest taxes and contributions in Europe), socialize with their teams, respect their work, allow them to make mistakes and learn, and support their personal and professional growth.

“Easy for them,” some might scoff. “They’ve got money, so they can play Google.” Sure, they have money—but they also work hard for it and, more importantly, think deeply about values beyond profit. No one forces IT leaders to be decent, dedicated, and invested in their people’s growth—they do it because they know that neither company nor sector growth is possible without inspired, productive employees who show up ready to tackle any challenge, knowing they’ll have support and leave work fulfilled.

Most of that 60% considering emigration say they’d leave because they see no future here. If they stay, does that future lie entirely in IT? Maybe—but that alone won’t create a sustainable economy. What we must learn from the IT sector is this: economic growth depends on satisfied, respected employees who create value not just to survive, but to become better versions of themselves—every single day.

Running a business is tough, but the real Sisyphean struggle in the 21st century is finding good job candidates—and, even harder, keeping great employees.

Who still remembers Lutajuća Srca (Wandering Hearts), the Yugoslav acoustic band from Niš? In the ’70s, Dženan Salković wrote them an exotic-nostalgic love song, “Jefimija,” inspired by medieval Serbian motifs. They toured a bit with Kemal Monteno and Čola, scored a sweet little hit with “Još Malo,” dabbled in covers of The Who and Free, and even represented Yugoslavia at the pan-socialist Youth Festival in East Berlin. A little bit of everything. They lasted about a decade, cycled through a singer or two, and by the early ’80s—each went their separate way.

All that’s left of Lutajuća Srca is a faint memory and a few smooth notes only a true connoisseur would recognize.

There are plenty of “wandering hearts” in business, too. They’re only talked about in passing—at receptions, after meetings, in elevator small talk. Running a business is hard, but in this late stage of the 21st century, finding good talent feels like rolling a boulder up a hill, and keeping top employees might be even harder. Every business owner thinks it’s their problem alone, one that will somehow resolve itself. But it won’t.

Because this is the millennial generation—people born between 1985 and 2000. Older folks accuse them of “doing nothing all day,” of “loafing around,” of “not knowing what they want,” let alone how to achieve it. Yet, at the same time, this is the generation leaving the country daily in search of a better life. And ultimately, these are the same people who—if exceptionally bold and focused—are already running their own ventures. They’re slowly climbing into key roles (not just entry-level ones), with some already angling for decision-making positions. These people now dominate the labor market. And it’s only in this last category that we, as employers, can hope to find exceptional future colleagues.

But here’s the catch: where real opportunities are scarce, every chance can seem like the chance to a capable young person. I’ve met many bright, educated millennials whose only “job” is chasing the next master’s degree, exchange program, Ph.D., postdoc, conference, or seminar. They’re everywhere—constantly networking, improving, exchanging ideas, opinions, perspectives. And then, suddenly, youth slips away! When the time finally comes for these brilliant young minds to settle into work, their pre-career cycle repeats itself on the job, creating “career wandering hearts.” They’re drawn to creativity—or maybe project management. They want leadership—but without accountability. They crave making a social impact—but also demand higher pay. They network relentlessly—yet remain hyper-focused on themselves, blind to anything beyond immediate (non-)opportunities.

No wonder four out of five start job-hunting immediately, according to “Most Desirable Employer” research by Serbia’s poslovi.infostud.com—one of the few studies on this topic. Once they land that new job, they want stability and great workplace relationships—but above all, flexible hours. Throw in private health insurance and a salary over 1,400 KM, if possible. And then? Eighty percent are still thinking about switching jobs again. The cycle never ends.

Are scholarships the answer, or do they just fuel this endless carousel? The Hastor Foundation, a private initiative by ASA Prevent (one of our largest companies), awarded scholarships to nearly 2,000 exceptional young people this year alone. Smaller but still impressive numbers come from BBI Bank’s owners, the diaspora-led Bosana Foundation, government programs, and others.

But what happens to all these scholarship recipients? Can we, as businesses and employers, help them structure and direct their careers so they can light the way for others? Can we ensure that the impact of the new business generations we’re shaping isn’t just a few fleeting notes—another echo of “wandering hearts”? The examples are around us, in BiH and the region—we’ve even mentioned some. But how? What strategy and tactics will work?

Stay tuned for the next issues of Biznis Plus to find out.

While Herzegovina reaches the dramatic climax of an economic tragedy, here in the rest of the country, yet another frivolous story unfolds. Or is it?

Cazin, July 8 – Representatives of the IT Girls initiative visited elementary schools across Bosnia and Herzegovina, delivering ten Arduino programming kits. “These sets will help our students and teachers refine their IT skills,” said Elvedin Delalić, director of Cazin II Elementary School.

Mostar, July 10 – Five minutes past midnight, the giant Aluminij was disconnected from the power grid. Workers of the Mostar behemoth stood in shock outside the factory, while a vehicle from the MUP of HNK lingered nearby. The decision to shut down the company had already been signed by director Dražen Pandža.

What do these two events have in common, aside from happening almost back-to-back? While Herzegovina witnesses the dramatic culmination of an economic tragedy that’s been simmering for at least a decade and a half—leading to the collapse of one of “the pillars of the region’s and the entire country’s economy” (as patriotically enlightened economists put it)—here in the rest of the country, instead of concrete, useful, and necessary action, we get yet another seemingly trivial tale. Or do we? Before we succumb to the toxic mentality of dismissing facts at face value, let’s look at things from another angle.

Even before Aluminij’s collapse, Bosnia and Herzegovina’s unemployment rate stood at 20.5%. Among those aged 15 to 24, the numbers are staggering: 43% of young men and a shocking 51.3% of young women are without work. When discussing unemployment, the demands of the labor market must factor into the equation. According to data from the BiH Employment Agency, the most sought-after professions are in the IT sector—particularly electrical engineers—followed by civil engineers, pharmacists, and doctors. Recruitment agencies report (via ITgirls.ba) that diplomas from electrical engineering faculties are among the most lucrative. And yet, by 2020, the EU will face a shortage of 900,000 qualified IT workers.

The events from early July don’t just reflect current affairs—they mirror global trends. Worldwide, including in BiH, we’re witnessing a shift in economic models: the era of “giants” is being replaced by the “gig” economy, a free market where temporary, tech-driven jobs are the norm rather than the exception, and businesses hire independent contractors based on project needs. The state is aware of this shift. Last year, the FBiH Tax Administration demanded freelancers retroactively pay taxes on all income from 2015 to 2017, prompting them to form the Freelance Association of BiH. Today, it brings together hundreds working in IT, design, apps, writing, translation, online teaching, and even project management, virtual assistance, and fashion design.

This is why the IT Girls initiative deserves praise—by distributing mini-robots to schools, they’re preparing future workers for the new reality of the labor market, with a special focus on girls, who remain a stark minority in these fields. They’re not alone in this mission. The Bit Alliance and our ICT Committee at AmCham BiH, gathering the country’s biggest IT players, share the goal of fostering a better environment for the sector’s growth. Microsoft takes it further with the regional “Gen-D” program, partnering with Propulsion and the “Petlja” Foundation to offer a prize-winning digital curriculum across five regional countries, cultivating algorithmic thinking and problem-solving in future generations. The British Council’s multimillion “Schools for the 21st Century” project also operates on the understanding that digital literacy, along with creative, critical, and analytical thinking, will be essential for individual and societal progress.

So, last week wasn’t just about “two witches.” We witnessed—and are still witnessing—the symbolic, noisy crash of the old economy and the emergence of timid but ever-strengthening voices of the new era.

Which voice does your business speak in?