"The piece should have a clear thesis to it. Please no jargon. You can send it my way."

That was the editor of the renowned magazine. I'd asked her what other guidelines I should follow in creating a story for my CEO, besides the word count.

"Please no jargon." The words sing. Not a song like you'd hear at a concert. No, their way is more funereal. You can hear the repulsion, the urgent desperation, the years of pain afflicted by poor writing.

Since this piece was to come from a business leader, her guard was up high. I can't blame her.

Thankfully, mercifully, we are of the same mind. Long ago did I abandon my jargonousness. (It only seemed fitting to create its own new word for it, especially one so offputting.) Gone are the days of trying to impress Mrs. Byrd in 7th grade English, or the shadow-cloaked SAT essay grading overlords.

No, there's nothing to prove anymore. There's communication to do. And jargon defeats the very purpose of communication, placing a fence between you and the reader, as to artificially elevate yourself at their expense.

Indeed, I was happy to assure to my colleague in communications - there would be no jargon here.