Women, you are our future. Never forget that. Did you think for a second that you weren't? Don't let the pressure get to you. Instead, turn to this phenomenally condescending screed in AdWeek from Nils Leonard, creative chief officer of the major advertising firm Grey London, for that much-needed pat on the back and reassurance that you will one day be "the perfect modern creative." It's about damn time, ladies, amirite.

Nils Leonard (real name????) gets one thing right:

Because we have enough men,

And then his weirdo male-feminist pronoun-based prose poem spirals completely out of control as he tries to engage women in advertising with a "it's your time to shine" pep talk.

To whom is he speaking?

The perfect creative presumes that the people around her are talented and want to contribute. And accepts that without meaning to, the company, the process and even she is stifling the work and its ability to be brilliant in some way.

She won't have come from a school that teaches advertising, and she certainly won't understand why we structure companies like we do.

Fuck school, she says. I don't get it, she says then.

This girl gets that none of us are as smart as all of us.

This woman is now a girl because among the other powers that women possess, our greatest sorcery is in our ability to Benjamin Button ourselves.

But although she will create her best work through collaboration, she will understand the violent, urgent need to disappear on her own, the pressure all hers, at the critical moment to crack the brief.

"Violent, urgent need"—please, do not give us women any ideas!!!!!! You've already given us too much power today!!!!!

She is a thief of new technologies.
A murderer of trade unions and waiting lines.
A radiator of energy and believer in the genius of 3 a.m. tequila, when it all matters a little too much.

Now it sounds like Leonard is speaking of a dangerous criminal who should be incarcerated.

Her best friend might be a planner.
Her lover might be a producer.

My best friend works in insurance. My lover is none of your fucking business, Leonard.

She and her workplace will not be invisible.
She is no shadowy wizard.

Sure. Have you heard about this J.K. Rowling brunch thing?

She won't just set the agenda on the work, but give the agency a true north. And will not only give other creatives a purpose, but make everyone who brings great things to bear a chance to shine.

The only north I recognize in this stanza is North West, and if I'm being honest here, Nils, what you're describing sounds awfully like "women's work" and I'm good without that.

And like all star players, she will always be on loan. Never yours.

This motherfucker is right about one thing: you can't own a human being because that shit is illegal.

One day, the perfect modern creative will have enough of us.

Sounds like that already happened.

Because ultimately she will want to create something sacred for herself.

Perhaps—a baby?

And she will go and do it.

Like—have...sex?

And we will love her for it.

Hi, dad. Glad I finally got your approval.

[Image via The Heights Award]