My parents have always been better people than me.

My mom was a career public school educator. In retirement, she frequents social justice marches and brings a therapy dog to schools. My dad spent 40 years fighting to clean up polluted waterways and now helps run a homeless recovery agency and lends his science expertise to environmental causes.

When I was a kid, they adopted my younger sister and brother, a Vietnam War orphan and a Native Alaskan who was bouncing between foster families. A Cambodian refugee family of four lived with us for months while they got established.

Meanwhile, I was a junior capitalist who loved Monopoly, read “The Official Preppy Handbook” as if it were the King James Bible and wouldn’t hug my parents. I did not belong or contribute.

Once established in advertising, I continued my selfish-ish ways. But I also became a decent copywriter. When I took a job working under my “ad dad,” Tracy Wong, he encouraged us to use our creative superpowers for good. Soon, I was leading the agency’s anti-tobacco PSA efforts, and Tracy’s superpowers-for-good directive became my job description. I fell in love.

Over the last couple of decades, I’ve found a way to build on my parents’ legacy of social impact. Not by changing who I am but by using the peculiar blend of pseudo-psychology, capitalism and intellectual vandalism that draws us weirdos to advertising in the first place. We may not be helpers in a pure sense, but I’d argue no one is better equipped to help the helpers.

Some ways creative pros can use their specialized toolbox for good include:

Harness your freakish ways to empower better people

You’re odd, and you don’t hide it. Perfect. In my experience, folks who find their way into more traditional do-goodery jobs are fairly reserved, at least during business hours. Their hearts are in the right place, but their minds are stuck in 40-person, consensus-driven Teams calls. These people desperately need black sheep outsiders like you who aren’t afraid to be the nail that sticks way up. Your unconventional, unafraid take will be giddily welcomed.

Seek radical empathy

If you’re out to change minds and shift behavior, the “audience insights” blurb on the brief will never be enough. Share space with your audience. Ask uncomfortable questions. Embrace their truth, even if it’s the opposite of what you—or the changemakers you’re helping—want to hear. Live there. This depth of empathy is what separates clever advertising from ideas that drive change.

Put results over everything

If you’re genuinely interested in helping the helpers, make driving results your unrivaled top priority. Start by learning as much as you can about the problem you’re trying to solve. Not the creative problem, the human problem. Then attack it with the same … scratch that, more tenacity than you would any other juicy brief. But stay honest with yourself—are you making creative decisions because they feel maverick and awards-friendly, or because they have a better shot at solving the larger problem? Those things are often one and the same, but not always. Get the real win.

You’re more than your ideas

You’re also the deep network you’ve spent years building, and that many nonprofits don’t have access to. A lot of your contacts—media, PR, talent agents and production vendors—share your desire to help the helpers and are more inclined to donate/discount their time and talents than you’d think.

Not-so-secret bonus: if your creative is killer, it’s way easier to get folks on board to make big things happen. I’ve also found that pro bono work presents a unique opportunity to get celebs to participate. It can’t hurt to ask. 

You can still sell stuff and improve the world

Hey, even radically empathetic, change-driven weirdos need to pay the bills. Thankfully, improving people’s lives and moving units aren’t mutually exclusive.

Help pet owners find a pet sitter that allows them to go on vacation without being a worried wreck. Help the adult children of aging parents find the care they can no longer provide themselves. Hell, help people find a pair of hiking shoes that get them outside. If your work is honest, promotes something you believe in and puts people’s well-being and emotions first, feel good about it.

As the world’s challenges continue to stack up, working in advertising comes with a dose of self-loathing. But we can’t all be teachers and environmental lawyers and doctors without borders. And that’s OK. Those full-time angels don’t have the time, extra energy or specialized talent to dream up big, out-there ways to supercharge their work. That’s where our weird asses come in.