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.

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.