I used to think the scariest part of my final year on campus would be exams. Turns out it was something else: the silence. The kind that followed me from my hostel to graduation and then into real life.

During my final year, I would refresh my inbox at 2:17am for the fifth time, hoping for anything, only to find another no-reply rejection that began with We regret to inform you... I learned those words before I even learned how to walk across a graduation stage. Two months after graduating, they are still showing up, like a habit I cannot shake.

Back then, everyone kept congratulating me as if I were approaching a finish line. But graduating did not feel like winning. It felt like being gently pushed off a cliff with a résumé in my hand and no clear place to land.

Statistics have consistently shown a gap between the number of graduates and the opportunities available. Most jobs are created in the informal sector, which deprives graduates the salaries and benefits they seek.

"The job market is tough," people said during my final year, and they are still saying it now -- an expression I have learned is adult code for good luck surviving.

My days now look like this: Wake up, open LinkedIn, scroll past motivational posts from CEOs who dropped out of college in 2008 and somehow bought houses at 23, then apply for jobs that ask for "entry-level" candidates with five years of experience and "a demonstrated track record of impact".

One posting I saw last week wanted a fresh graduate who could code, design, manage clients, analyse data and "thrive under pressure". The compensation? An unpaid internship with "exposure".

This is not just personal frustration. Gen Z entered the workforce during a perfect storm: post-pandemic layoffs, inflation, automation and companies quietly deciding that one overworked employee can do the work of three.

We were told to study hard, get degrees, build portfolios and network aggressively -- and we did. Now we are being asked why we are surprised that the system is not catching us when we jump.

What makes it harder is the emotional whiplash. On campus, I was told I was "employable", "articulate" and "full of potential". Online, I am one of thousands of applicants for a junior role that may never be filled. I once tailored a cover letter so carefully it felt like writing a love confession. Two weeks later, I received an automated rejection at 6.04am. That was the entire exchange.

'TARMACKING' TESTIMONIES

Some people believe Gen Zs are simply impatient, that we expect too much, too soon. There is some truth to that. We grew up watching 20-year-olds online buy luxury cars and call it "passive income".

But impatience is not the same as entitlement. What we want is stability. Health insurance. Pay cheques that are not swallowed in full by rent. Work that does not require sacrificing every weekend and ounce of self-worth.

I have met Gen Zs who adapted by abandoning the white-collar path altogether. One of them, 26-year-old Denson Wanjala, spent three years applying for corporate jobs after graduating.

"I did everything right," he told me. "Internships, certifications, networking events where I smiled until my face hurt. After the 200th rejection, I just snapped."

He invested his savings in a small perfume business, blending scents in his bedsitter and selling online. Today, it is profitable. "The job market didn't want me," he said, "so I made my own door."

Stories like his are often shared as inspiration, proof that hustle culture works. But for every success story, there is someone still waiting.

Salome Mukami, a 29-year-old Gen Z graduate with a Master's degree, has been searching for a job for five years. "At first it was optimism," she said. "Then it was embarrassment. Now it's just routine. I apply, I get ghosted, I try again."

She survives on occasional gigs while her degrees sit unused. There is no viral pivot, no triumphant ending.

REALITY CHECK

Both stories are valid. Both reflect the Gen Z experience. Together, they expose a common misconception: That the problem lies in individual effort rather than a broken pipeline between education and employment.

The broader issue is not that Gen Zs do not want to work. It's that work, as currently structured, does not want us, at least not on humane terms. Employers want loyalty without security, flexibility without benefits, and passion without pay. We are told to be grateful for "learning opportunities" while student loan interest quietly grows.

I am skeptical about my chances of securing a job, not because I lack ambition, but because I have watched too many capable people stall at the starting line.

Still, skepticism is not surrender. It is a refusal to accept comforting myths. If Gen Z sounds angry, anxious or sarcastic, it is because we can see the gap between what we were promised and what is actually on offer.