Jobs That Don’t Want You

Some stories don’t begin with fire — they begin with ash. Not with dreams, but with disappointments. Not because you lost something that was yours, but because you were never even given the chance to belong in the first place.

In an age where everyone reports what happened, this zine asks why it keeps happening. Because where people are reduced to CVs and potential is judged only by past experience, the air thickens with smoke — until you can no longer see the next step, or even the point of taking one. And just when you’re convinced you’ve burned out completely, in the ashes you catch a spark — one that refused to belong to anyone until it found you.

Maybe a new beginning doesn’t need a flawless past — only the honest choice to become the spark for change.

Who Replies Anyway?

There are two kinds of people who don’t reply to messages: those who think it makes them look cool, and those who run companies. The latter don’t ghost their exes — they ghost job candidates. You craft the perfect application, jump through every hoop, spend ages making sure the email sounds just right — and then, nothing. Nothing is the new reply. No polite rejection. No hint it was ever read. You won’t hear back. There’s just — nothing.

An ordinary man — properly educated, properly raised, and properly desperate — applied for everything going. For internships demanding senior-level skills. For volunteer roles that somehow required years of experience. For jobs where the only real requirement was that you ask for nothing in return. He wrote to ‘dedicated teams’, to ‘dynamic workplaces’, to ‘second families’. So many applications, and so few interviews you could count them on one hand. He wrote again and again, with more care than anyone out there would ever find the time to read. And when there was no one left to write to — he wrote to himself. From that letter, this zine was born.

When what you call effort drags on for too long, you start taking whatever comes your way — not because you’ve lost ambition, but because you’ve started to doubt yourself. Maybe you’ve overrated yourself. Maybe you’re not made for something big, or even something meaningful. Maybe you’re not cut out for anything at all. So you settle for less. Then for what doesn’t look like you at all. Until you become someone you no longer recognise. And that’s not waiting for the right thing anymore — that’s time slowly eating away at your best self.

The Wrong People in the Right Places

In Serbia, where getting a job feels more like a lottery than a measure of worth, candidates don’t fail because of themselves — they fail because value isn’t even part of the game anymore. They’re rejected for being ‘overqualified’, while their first experience somehow still demands prior experience.

The deeper you go into what they call a profession, the clearer it becomes that it’s not experience you’re missing. From a distance it looks bad. Up close, it’s even worse. Those who’ve settled in often lack both knowledge and vision — they’re just used to being there. Incompetence. Chaos. Lack of logic. No skill. Every interaction makes it clear that many of them have wandered into roles they don’t belong in. And it’s not coincidence — these are the wrong people in the right places.

Failure by Design

There are so many people around us who have everything except themselves, walking the city dissatisfied, uninspired and totally drained. It makes you wonder: am I mad for staying out of the game, or are they mad for never leaving it? In a world where success comes with that kind of headache, maybe failure isn’t such a bad deal after all. Better to have nothing than to have what they have.

Getting a job has turned into a reality show with no auditions, no callbacks, just a cast that was handed out ages ago while the rest of us sit in the audience. Friends wish you luck, but keep their hands clean. Employers blame some crises, and the state pats you on the back for your perseverance. And really, it all just feels like a polite way of saying: we’re not counting on you.

You know how it goes. Nothing new here. Positions get snapped up before you even realise they were vacant.  Job ads never make it to the public — they weren’t meant to. These are private deals: someone remembered someone, someone called the right person, someone had lunch with someone else, someone owed a favour. And this isn’t the job market. It’s a club. One that, obviously, you’re not in.

You report regularly to the National Employment Service, but predictably, it gets you nowhere. They steal two or three minutes of your time — just enough to schedule the next appointment. They offer nothing, ask little. They work locally, so if you’re from the wrong district, you won’t get far. The NES truly gives us nothing.

When Hiring Isn’t About You

You check your inbox obsessively. Every single day. Multiple times. You write cover letters with more passion than most love letters ever get. You create visuals to stand out, and #OpenToWork has become a symbol rather than a signal — just another post for an algorithm obsessed with trends, not people. Companies say they want flexible players, calm under pressure, full of initiative — yet they can’t even be bothered to send two sentences of thanks. The question isn’t whether you’re good enough. The question is — who the hell is doing the choosing?

Chasing a position feels like hunting a Horcrux, and when you finally grab it, there’s not much to celebrate. You’ve invested time, effort, education, and sheer will into it — and for what? Something that barely covers the rent. Exploitation isn’t even dressed up anymore; it just goes by a different name these days. The system doesn’t call it a problem. No, it calls it the standard.

Because What’s the Alternative?

Meanwhile, life just stops. Invisibility devours your dreams. Your knowledge sits in folders you can’t even open. Your ideas get rejected because they’re not approved in some CRM. Motivation crashes like a system with no backup. And when no one clicks ‘Run’, even the strongest program goes into sleep mode.

But in that moment when exhaustion piles up and you can’t see the light anywhere, you tell yourself: ‘Let’s try it this way.’ Not because you’re sure you’ll succeed, but because there’s nothing left to lose.

So write. Create. Launch. Start something of your own. Don’t wait for an invitation to know you have a place. Your worth isn’t tied to anyone else noticing it — it’s yours.

And it’s not a problem that you don’t have a job. The problem is that they don’t have you. Because a better team means a better outcome. A better outcome means success. And what’s everyone really chasing? Money.

So next time they wonder where you are, they should know you’re not there because you had to find yourself where they couldn’t see you.

While they pretend not to notice — you’re building something they’ll never be able to deny.

The Best Contract You’ll Ever Sign

Let your idea live. Be brave enough for the questions, the mistakes, the learning, and the doubt. No one’s going to warn you that starting something of your own isn’t just launching a project —
it’s kicking off an identity crisis, a full-on reboot of your relationship with money, time, responsibility, and everyday life. You’ll need knowledge you don’t have yet, patience you’ll only pick up along the way, and a stubbornness you didn’t know you had.

But none of it’s that scary. You’re not the only one figuring it out as you go — carving a path, writing and rewriting, cursing and praising, gritting your teeth to keep moving. Nobody ever starts fully prepared. Everything you need is learned along the way.

And when you pull it off, you’ll realise it’s the best contract you’ll ever sign. Your signature is on it. And you won’t need anyone to hand you a place anymore — you’ve made it yourself.

Welcome Home

Welcome to the House — to its pages, its stories, its ideas. We’re rooting for you on the journey of making something that’s completely, unapologetically yours. We don’t know what your plan looks like yet, but one thing’s clear: you’re a plan worth trying.