Changes at "đ Scene 3 â Online Job Hunting âLink Not Foundâ"
Description (English)
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Based on the original script by the young creators of âYouâre Fried!â
A bedroom. Dim light from a laptop screen. A young person sits cross-legged on their bed, laptop open, phone nearby, tabs multiplying like weeds.
Theyâre job hunting.
Click.
A link to a âYouth Opportunity Platformâ â but the listing is outdated.404 â Page Not Found.
Click.
Another job advert leads to a long application page full of corporate jargon.
Minimum requirement: 2 yearsâ experience.
The job? Front desk assistant.Click.
A third site lists over 100 internships â unpaid. Many without clear hours. Some not even in the right country.Frustrated, the young person opens WhatsApp.
Friend 1: âTry this link I used last year, dunno if itâs still live.â
Friend 2: âI just take whatever now. They want âexperienceâ but donât give you any.â
Friend 3: âGot ghosted again. I swear half these are fake.âThe young person switches tabs again. They try to sign up for alerts. The system glitches. They refresh. Another pop-up offers a CV workshop for ÂŁ90. They close it.
After hours of trying, they click âApplyâ on a job that isnât right, doesnât pay well, and has zero learning opportunities, but itâs something.
This scene captures the digital labyrinth of job hunting, especially for those with little guidance or support. Instead of clarity and opportunity, they face broken systems, contradictory messages, and a sense of invisibility. Their ambition slowly shifts to desperation.
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âLink Not Foundâ
Based on the original script by the young creators of âYouâre Fried!â, now connected to Scene 2 and set in the school computer room.Fluorescent lighting. The low hum of machines.
A group of young people stand in line, waiting to use one of the schoolâs computers.
Some are texting friends. Others stare blankly at their phones.At the front of the line, we recognise the young woman from Scene 2 â the one who asked about studying criminology. She still holds the paper the advisor gave her â a printout with messy rows of URLs and a title that reads âPopular Employment Portals.â The links are barely legible. Some are cut off. Some are already crossed out with pen.
One student sits down at the computer. The screen blinks awake.
But it doesnât just flash â it speaks.
The computer appears as a human-like figure: sharp suit, customer-service smile, distant eyes.âWelcome to the National Job Search Interface.
Please state your region and area of interest.ââBirmingham. Anything local. Full-time or apprenticeship.â
The computer blinks.
âTwo matches found in Birmingham, Alabama.
Would you like to expand your search radius by 4,200 miles?â
(Smiles.)âNo, Birmingham UK. I live here!â
âNo local results found. Suggesting Glasgow.â
Another student steps forward â a young woman without a CV, nervous but determined.
âCan you just help me? I donât have a CV but Iâm willing to learn.â
âNo CV uploaded. Generating basic profile.
Checking personal email⊠new messages: 3.âHer eyes light up. She clicks.
Voice (off-screen): âRejected.â
Next email. She holds her breath.
Voice: âNot enough experience.â
One more. The smile falters.
Voice: âApplication error. File corrupted.â
She looks around. No one is laughing, but no one is helping either.
The computer smiles again.âBetter luck next time.
Please return to the end of the queue.âShe stands, defeated, as the next person steps in. The same process starts again.
The young woman with the paper sits down. She types one of the links from the printout â letter by letter. The page doesnât load.â404. Page not found.â
She lowers her eyes. Folds the paper. Gets back in line.
This scene exposes the structural cruelty of digital systems in public education spaces: misdirected links, opaque portals, constant failure disguised as âguidance.â The computer appears neutral, but its answers betray a system that doesnât see the full human â just errors, absences, and mismatches.
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