logo
From Ladder To Launchpad: How Gen Z Is Rethinking Careers

From Ladder To Launchpad: How Gen Z Is Rethinking Careers

Forbesa day ago

KUALA LUMPUR, MALAYSIA - 2025/01/24: Tourists play a game of Snakes and Ladders at a Chinese temple ... More ahead of the Lunar New Year of the Snake celebrations. Lunar New Year which falls on January 29, 2025, welcomes the year of the Snake, which will be celebrated by the Chinese around the world. (Photo by Wong Fok Loy/SOPA Images/LightRocket via Getty Images)
Snakes and Ladders (Chutes and Ladders for American readers) was the game I grew up with. A roll of the dice could catapult you up or send you sliding down. One lucky number and you were ahead. One unlucky square and you were back at the beginning. It was a game of chance—no strategy, no control.
My Gen Z kids don't play it. Their world is Minecraft. They build. They create. They engineer landscapes from scratch. There's no dice. No shortcuts. Just trial, design and iteration. And that contrast says a lot about how Gen Z thinks about careers too. They don't want to climb someone else's ladder.
They want to craft their own space, shape their own path and know that the work they do today builds toward something that's theirs. But that's hard to do when the systems they enter are still wired for a different game. If we want to help Gen Z grow, we can't leave it to luck. We have to help them build.
It makes you wonder: is there a Minecraft: Career Edition?
Even if there were, we'd still need to name the gap between building virtual worlds and navigating real ones. One lets you break blocks and build castles with a click. The other requires you to face uncertainty, figure out what matters, and make calls when no playbook is handed to you.
Careers don't come with a tutorial. There's no sandbox mode for real life.
That's what makes early career so complicated right now. Gen Z is often learning through simulations, digital experiences and secondhand stories. But what they need are real-world repetitions. Moments of stretch, ambiguity and contribution. Not in theory. In context. In the workplace. On teams that expect something of them.
FEATURED | Frase ByForbes™
Unscramble The Anagram To Reveal The Phrase
Pinpoint By Linkedin
Guess The Category
Queens By Linkedin
Crown Each Region
Crossclimb By Linkedin
Unlock A Trivia Ladder
And that means leaders need to stop asking if Gen Z is prepared—and start creating the conditions that help them prepare.
Trying To Build With Missing Blocks
Many young professionals are ambitious, creative and eager to grow—but they're also navigating fog. Career guidance feels out of sync with what they're experiencing. The job they trained for might be evolving. The path they imagined might not exist. And the advice they're getting often comes from influencers, not insiders.
CareerTok is full of well-meaning guidance, but much of it misses a deeper truth: growth isn't a formula. And belief in yourself, while important, needs to be anchored in something more durable than algorithms, AI prompts or viral social media tips.
A Deloitte study found that just 6% of Gen Z say their top career goal is to reach a leadership role. But that doesn't mean they lack ambition. Learning and development rank among their top three reasons for choosing an employer. Nearly nine in ten say a sense of purpose is critical to their well-being. And many feel their managers are falling short—not on performance management, but on inspiration and mentorship.
Gallup research reveals similar gaps. Younger employees report drops in clarity, recognition, and development—fundamental ingredients for growth. These aren't soft needs. They're the scaffolding for long-term success.
The biggest challenge? Most of our systems still reward the straight line. But Gen Z grew up in a world that glitched and rebooted. They've watched careers evaporate, industries reinvent, and skills go obsolete before graduation. They aren't lost. They're living in a different context. One that doesn't promise certainty—but does demand adaptability.
And they're not waiting to be told what to do. They're asking the right questions:
What am I building here?
What matters to me?
How can I grow and still be myself?
What Leaders Must Do
Many leaders still expect younger employees to prove themselves the same way they did: stay put, follow instructions, pay dues. But Gen Z is responding to a different economy and different signals. They want growth, not grind. They want learning, not ladder-climbing for its own sake. And they want to feel seen as whole people, not just future high potentials.
So what should leaders do?
Most young professionals are used to being evaluated on what they lack. Flip the script. Start with what they naturally do best. Help them understand their true strengths not bemoan their weaknesses. Help them see how they think, relate and contribute. You're not just coaching a job. You're shaping a personal journey.
Gen Z doesn't expect to have all the answers. But they want chances to explore. That means offering project work across teams, learning experiences outside their job family and mentorship that spans disciplines.
Many leaders hide the zigzags in their own careers. That's a missed opportunity. Share your detours. Your failures. The moments that didn't make sense until later. Gen Z wants transparency over polish. Vulnerability builds trust.
Instead of asking, 'Where do you want to be in five years?' try, 'What kind of work makes you feel alive?' or 'What problems are you curious about?' Let their questions shape the path, not your expectations.
A role that doesn't fit isn't failure. It's data. Help them see how skills transfer, how to reframe setbacks and how to pivot without shame. Especially in a fast-moving world where AI and automation are redrawing the lines every week.
From Ladders To Landscapes
Many Gen Z employees are being called idealistic. Entitled. Too quick to leave. But they are not quitting growth. They are quitting environments that don't make space for it. The sooner we adjust our systems, the sooner we unlock their potential.
Because they're not playing the old game. If their world is more Minecraft than Monopoly, our systems need to shift too. Minecraft doesn't reward luck or hierarchy. It rewards intention. Curiosity. Rebuilding when something breaks. Careers today need the same mindset. Not a fixed track but an evolving world built through trial, stretch, and imagination.
You don't build a castle in Minecraft by rolling dice. You build it block by block—mistake by mistake, lesson by lesson. That's the kind of resilience and creativity Gen Z is already practicing. And it's time we helped them bring it into the workplace.
The game Gen Z is playing isn't about reaching the top. It's about learning how to move with change. How to build range. And how to grow in ways that matter. The leaders who will shape the future are the ones who know this. And who are willing to change the gameboard.

Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

What's Really Driving Gen Z's Love of Pinterest: 'There's No Pressure to Be Seen'
What's Really Driving Gen Z's Love of Pinterest: 'There's No Pressure to Be Seen'

Yahoo

timean hour ago

  • Yahoo

What's Really Driving Gen Z's Love of Pinterest: 'There's No Pressure to Be Seen'

Something about Pinterest feels like it wasn't made for today's world, and maybe that's why we're so drawn to it. It's more relaxed, quieter. While the rest of the internet spins itself dizzy, saturated with blaring noise and a flashing sense of urgency, Pinterest is drawing in Gen Z like a tide. All you have to do is scroll until you see something that catches your eye and save it; the act alone feels like a kind of intention. We're the ones making Pinterest bloom again, gradually and glamorously. More than 42% of Pinterest's monthly users are Gen Z — 26.1 million of us, to be exact — and we're not just passing through. We're carving out a space for ourselves, with searches from Gen Z rising by 30% year over year. We save nearly 2.5 times more pins than any other generation, and we make 66% more boards. That's not scrolling; that's collecting and curating. It's us trying to understand the shape of ourselves by arranging tiny pieces of the world into a mosaic of all the things we love. More from SheKnows These Fun & Smart ChatGPT Prompts Will Actually Inspire Teens to Keep Learning This Summer For many of us, especially the women aged 18 to 24 who now make up 20% of Pinterest's global audience, it's one of the only digital spaces left that feels like a deep breath. 68% of monthly users say that they feel that they can actually be their authentic selves on the platform, which sounds small until you realize how rare it is online to feel understood without the need to explain — to be seen for what's on the inside rather than the outside. There's a difference between feeling seen and being witnessed. Most social media platforms make me feel like I'm walking on a tightrope, attempting the insurmountable task of balancing authenticity with curation. But Pinterest feels like slipping into a warm bath of images that no one asked me to explain. There's no pressure to post. No fluorescent status updates blinking like a siren. It's just me and my perpetually evolving collection of things I love. It feels like standing in the middle of a thrift store, sifting through a dusty rack until you find something that fits, something that was waiting for you to find it. On Pinterest, there's a stillness that feels subversive. Like stepping into a house where no one expects you to speak, where your absence isn't punished, where you don't have to be clever, or correct, or constantly creating a version of yourself that's digestible to strangers. I go to Pinterest when the absurdly dramatic, self-critical voice in my head becomes too sharp. When the world feels too full of opinions and perfect faces and things you're supposed to want. Pinterest isn't like that. Pinterest isn't really social media, not in the way we've come to understand it at least. There's no pressure to be seen. There's no race to be the funniest, or the prettiest, or most 'authentically curated.' It's not about keeping up with your friends or making sure your post tags the right people, about being known by others or garnering likes and comments. Pinterest is a library of dreams, a digital altar. It's a drawer that you open alone. Through the obstacles of my teenage years, Pinterest acted as my guide, helping me envision what I could be once the hurdles were overcome. Like a blinding light at the end of a tunnel, I counted on my boards to deliver me from the depths of teenage angst. And yes, sometimes the beauty portrayed is deeply aestheticized. Like any social media, Pinterest has a way of idealizing life, of flattening it into mood boards that smell like vanilla and look like they live in Paris. But that's part of the appeal. There's something undeniably soothing about immersing yourself in a world of your own design, where the lighting is always golden and the air is always fresh. There's a ritual that I've come to love. I name a new board something descriptive yet cryptic, 'spirit science,' 'jazz and bossa nova records,' 'runway fashion,' and I start pinning. Completely engrossed in my imagination, I build a world tailored to my own predilections with photos of cracked porcelain mugs, girls with flushed cheeks and messy hair, and outfits that I feel like I've already worn in a dream. I pin poems I don't understand yet. Color palettes that ache like old songs. Sometimes I don't even know why I choose what I do. But I know it's right. And that's the point. Pinterest lets us choose without explaining. It gives Gen Z what most platforms don't: space to exist without performance. A place where identity feels like a fog that gathers slowly, takes shape, then becomes something whole. Immaterial and abstract but undoubtedly felt. Even the way it works — visual, fluid, nonlinear — mimics how we think. How we want. How we remember. It's less like social media and more like dreaming with your eyes open. People say 'that's so Pinterest' now, like a shorthand for appearing to be effortlessly curated, singular, tasteful in a way that doesn't scream. It means that you've made a life that looks intentional. It means you've figured out how to live inside your own taste, something that isn't copy-pasted from a trending audio that already feels old by the time you film it. Pinterest is where 'cool' is born, not the loud or viral kind, but the kind that doesn't need to announce itself. It seeps into culture over time, where microtrends catch their first breath. That's another reason why Gen Z loves it — we care about taste. Not in a snobby way, but in an inexplicably personal one. We want our idealized identities to feel textured. Niche. Specific. Not prepackaged, like trends that are tied neatly with a bow and expire every two weeks. We don't just want to participate in trends, we want to embody them; to touch the source. Pinterest bestows us with a far more priceless gift. A feeling of ownership and discovery, intimacy with style before it's been watered down and sold in bulk. While the mood boards are what drew us in, we stayed for practical reasons, too. In a world where everything feels increasingly unstable, practicality is its own form of comfort. You can plan an entire dinner party on there, down to the style of napkin folds. You can figure out what haircut best suits your face shape, or where to buy that obscure lamp you saw in the background of a movie. And unlike most platforms, Pinterest doesn't just assume that you want something just because somebody else does. Apps like TikTok didn't invent the bandwagon effect, but it encourages it, steamrolling anyone who falls off the collective wagon into obscurity. For a generation raised on algorithmic hunger, Pinterest feels like a radical relief. No matter how hard you try to fight it, we currently live in a time where you're expected to always be on. Every app is a stage, and every profile is a brand. We're taught to post quickly, speak loudly, and respond rapidly. But Pinterest lets you pause. It's an undercover rebellion against the hyper-social, hyper-surveilled spaces we've been pushed into. Pinterest is where Gen Z can go when we're tired of trying to be interesting, offering a refuge when we don't feel like broadcasting ourselves anymore. Pinterest is an antidote, putting the 'media' in social media with no obligation to be 'chronically online.' It replaces 'doomscrolling' with a sense of peaceful wandering. And it feels different; wandering is gentler. Wandering is allowed to be nonlinear. One image leads to another, and suddenly I'm dreaming larger than I ever thought possible. Like a digital shoebox of feelings, like a quilt sewn from pieces you forgot you loved, it's the place I visit when I feel the need to connect with myself. I've found masterpieces of art that lingered in my bones for weeks and recipes that felt like spells. More than anything, I've built and rebuilt myself more times than I can count, covertly reflected in the worlds I've constructed. It's like catching your own eye in a mirror unexpectedly, or like recognizing a version of yourself that you didn't know you knew. Gen Z didn't come to Pinterest looking for peace; we came looking for inspiration. But what we found was a kind of permission. The ability to be messy and not yet entirely whole. To want things that you don't yet understand. To build digital shrines to people you haven't met, lives you haven't lived, and clothes you're too scared to wear. It's not only an app, it's a record of longing, of yearning. And maybe longing is all we really have, our best compass in a world that changes so fast that we barely have time to name our feelings before they disappear again. But Pinterest lets us name them. Image by image, pin by pin, not for likes. Just to remember who we were trying to become. It's the last corner of the internet that still feels sacred, a place where I can gather all my scattered dreams and say gently, Here. This is who I am becoming. Best of SheKnows Celebrity Parents Who Are So Proud of Their LGBTQ Kids Here's Where Your Favorite Celebrity Parents Are Sending Their Kids to College Bird Names Are One of the Biggest Baby Name Trends for Gen Beta (& We Found 20+ Options)

‘Squid Game' Season 3 Recap: More Misery and a Surprise Cameo
‘Squid Game' Season 3 Recap: More Misery and a Surprise Cameo

New York Times

timean hour ago

  • New York Times

‘Squid Game' Season 3 Recap: More Misery and a Surprise Cameo

This article includes spoilers for all of the final season of 'Squid Game.' The final season of Netflix's international sensation 'Squid Game' is officially labeled Season 3. But who are we kidding here? The six episodes that end this series feel very much like a continuation of the seven episodes that aired earlier this year as Season 2, covering the same characters, still in the middle of the same deadly tournament. Nothing new is introduced here in the 'Squid Game' homestretch. The show's writer and director, Hwang Dong-hyuk, just connects the last few dots. It's no wonder then that Season 3 feels so dispiritingly rote. This new set of episodes begins with the show's protagonist Seong Gi-hun (Lee Jung-jae) completely demoralized. In Season 1, he had survived a secret competition on a mysterious island — where the losers are killed and the ultimate winner takes home a fortune — for the entertainment of obscenely wealthy 'V.I.P.s.' Shaken by the experience, Gi-hun in Season 2 tried to find and expose the tournament's backers before deciding the only way to destroy the operation would be from the inside, by competing again. The season ended with a massive miscalculation by Gi-hun, as he attempted to lead some other players in an armed revolt against the games' guards and bosses, unaware that one of his supposed allies, Hwang In-ho (Lee Byung-hun), was actually the operation's manager — 'the Front Man' — playing incognito in order to keep a close eye on him. At the same time, In-ho's brother Hwang Jun-ho (Wi Ha-jun) — a former police detective working with Gi-hun to end the games for good — kept searching for the island, unaware that the captain of the boat he chartered was in league with the Front Man and steering him far away from his target. It may not have been the best idea to return In-ho to his Front Man duties at the end of Season 2, separating him from the now-despondent Gi-hun. One of the most rewarding elements of Season 2 were the conversations between In-ho, a misanthropic cynic pretending to be a compassionate human being, and Gi-hun, a fierce idealist determined to prove to the games' masters that people are not inherently greedy, selfish and shortsighted. With In-ho out of the game and Gi-hun deflated, Season 3 loses some juice right from the start. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.

The ‘Squid Game' Season 3 Ending Was A Mess
The ‘Squid Game' Season 3 Ending Was A Mess

Forbes

time2 hours ago

  • Forbes

The ‘Squid Game' Season 3 Ending Was A Mess

Squid Game Squid Game has ended its run with a season 3 finale that served as a second half of season 2, more or less, the overly-large season covering a single game split in two. While there were certainly good moments in the season, episode 2, for instance, was one of the best in all three seasons of Squid Game; once we made it to the end, it was just…not a good finale, and the entire thing very much felt like it was not supposed to exist, a product of Netflix trying to milk the popular series when it should have been a one-off. What went wrong? (Spoilers follow) The turning point was the birth of the baby. The CGI baby who was, admittedly, halfway decent CGI, but still, a CGI baby that then had to be carried through the games as another player because the idiot VIPs thought it would be funny. This totally changed Gi-hun's mission, which was already sort of neutered after his failed rebellion as he had given up his ultimate goal of taking down the Frontman and the games. The end here was all over the place. In a bout of incredibly bad timing, Gi-hun opts to jump off the final tower to follow the rules of the game and save the baby, first A) assuming these insane game operators will actually do anything kind with the baby (who they were willing to let die thirty seconds earlier) and B) give it billions in prize money. Squid Game The timing is poor because just minutes later, the Coast Guard and the detective arrive to storm the place, meaning if this did not happen coincidentally that close together, Gi-hun probably could have escaped with the baby if the Frontman hit the button to let them down, which seems like something he would do at that point. But the show wanted to get that Gi-hun sacrifice in there despite it meaning practically nothing. The Frontman ends up giving this completely random baby to his brother, along with the baby's cash because well, the baby had to go somewhere since the final four episodes were based around it. I am fundamentally okay with the Frontman surviving all this, but I can't believe we got through this entire series without a single one of those deeply annoying, horrifyingly cruel VIPs getting killed. We were waiting the entire series for that, and they just…disappear in the end. I guess maybe they got blown up? We have no idea. The Cate Blanchett cameo was the cherry on top. I suppose the idea here was to cast a recognizable actor in that role as they did on the Korean side, but it certainly was a bizarre moment to see a hugely recognizable Western actress in the last moments of the show (the only other Western actors being the abominable VIPs). As of now, there is no confirmed American spin-off coming, but obviously, that seems like something Netflix would do. Who knows if they could rope Cate Blanchett into an entire series? But the point is, the games didn't end anyway, so all of this was pointless and just left open-ended for more seasons someday or spin-offs. I thought season 3 started strong, but it was ultimately a thrown-together mess by the end where everything jumbled together and little made sense. It also negated the entire arc of Gi-hun within minutes, which was a terrible end to his character. What a nightmare. Follow me on Twitter, YouTube, Bluesky and Instagram. Pick up my sci-fi novels the Herokiller series and The Earthborn Trilogy.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store