A note for English readers: This article was written in Romanian, and some of its irony and meaning are deeply rooted in the Romanian language and in the particular way English has made its way into Romanian IT and business jargon. The English version conveys the argument, but some of the wordplay and nuances inevitably get lost in translation.
Throughout this article, you will encounter a considerable number of quotation marks. If they bother you, or if you are looking for something “truly important” that will “bring value”, do not waste your precious time. Really, you are better off “focusing on results”. It is friendly advice, not a recommendation or a warning, and certainly not a marketing technique.
When we talk about contemporary business language – assuming, of course, that we are outsiders to it (and we are) – we run into a wall of jargon that, instead of being descriptive, becomes a labyrinth, an illusion, a mask. But before we get there, let us take the counterintuitive route and start with some old words:
„Ah! At such most trying moments
One feels covered up with shame:
Where can one for truth discover
The best suited word and name?”
“To my critics”, Mihai Eminescu, 1883, translated by Andrei Bantaș
From truth to packaging
Passionate and tormented, caught somewhere between the paroxysm of beauty and the abyss of despair, Mihai Eminescu wrote these lines in his poem To My Critics, as an affront to the emptiness of the writing produced by his adversaries. And because we have started by being negative and contrary, we will use this “string of nothingness” to show just how far the language of the business world has travelled – especially in IT.
“Truth” is no longer a matter of precision, but of presentation. Aesthetics, accuracy, correctness and honesty seem today more like shortcomings than priorities. After all, who has the time to read or listen to all these so-called details? “Profit is king!” And because “profit is king”, the purpose of language has been reduced to selling an idea or, at best, making something work – at any cost. If you have made it this far, congratulations on a level of patience that is increasingly rare.
How corporate “romgleză” was born
Take the ordinary sentence “let’s focus on results”. Romanian and English come together in a strange coexistence with no appeal. “Focusarea” – the Romanian noun derived from “focus” – does not technically exist in standard Romanian; concentrare does. Terms like this seem to have been picked up on the fly, perhaps from an imposing personality who uttered them with absolute conviction on a stage or in a meeting room. More often than not, they are meant to sound better rather than say something more clearly. In fact, their ambiguity can even seem like an advantage. Much like those happenings involving an awareness input – gatherings where people share opinions that, more often than not, someone else already had.
And so a new species of language was born: so-called “corporate Romgleză” – a mixture of mangled Romanian, “American”, technical jargon and lexical ambition, driven by one burning need: to communicate competence. It is a living language, constantly expanding, borrowing anything that sounds “professional”, even at the risk of exposing the confident speaker behind it.
Buzzwords – the currency of the present
Let us start with the buzzwords that have infiltrated our language like mould into Roquefort: “upgrade”, “download”, “agile”, “cutting-edge”, “synergy”, “scalable”, “transformational”, “future-proof”. The list is endless. These buzzwords no longer want to be simple words; they have become a currency of exchange in business presentations. They do not communicate ideas, but attitudes. “Agile” means you are modern. “Scalable” shows that you think big. “Transformational” sounds as if you have just changed the world, even if all you actually did was update a software version.
Take “on-prem”, for example. Most people, including those who use English every day, assume it is short for “on-premise”, but the technically correct form is “on-premises” – the plural form referring to a physical location or premises. In reality, “on-premise” makes little sense in this context; taken literally, it would mean “based on a premise”. But it caught on. It sounds Western, polished, almost academic. Even this little abbreviation can signal someone who is concerned with “what matters”, rather than empty words.
When words become armour
But we do not stop at “on-prem”. The IT world is full of these lexical chimeras, half-meanings and distorted translations. A “developer” is no longer simply a programmer – it is a remarkably broad, almost mystical term. In Romania, a dezvoltator was once the person who put up apartment buildings, the real-estate developer. Today, they can also be the person building platforms. The architect, once a dreamer with a compass over a drawing board, is now a “solution architect”. And the “solution” – a word once associated with chemistry or mathematics – has become synonymous with almost anything: an application, a programme, software, you name it.
We no longer have programmes, only “integrated solutions”. We no longer have applications, but “digital ecosystems”. A simple web page is now a “collaborative end-to-end platform”. A well-made Excel spreadsheet becomes a “business intelligence tool”. And perhaps the most fascinating part is that, although these terms sound sophisticated, they do not describe reality any better. Quite the opposite – they camouflage it.
Corporate Romgleză is, at its core, a form of armour. A linguistic defence against banality, an embellished cloak worn against simplicity. In an environment where everyone “delivers results” and everyone is “value-added oriented”, failing to speak jargon makes you suspicious. Actual competence becomes secondary – what matters is appearing “aligned”, “up to speed”, “data-driven” and, of course, “on the same page”.
The absurd poetry of meetings
And so a five-minute meeting turns into a forty-five-minute discussion, intense, passionate and remarkably light on actual information. It is a modern form of absurdist poetry: every participant plays the role of the expert, sprinkling the conversation with phrases such as “let’s sync”, “let’s do a deep dive”, “put it on the roadmap” and “bring tangible value to the end customer”. If people in the nineteenth century wrestled with the meaning of words, we wrestle with an excess of them. Cioran would have smiled bitterly: we have managed to build a world in which nothing has a KPI.
Why do we talk like this?
But let us not be unfair. This language is not an accident, but a symptom. Today’s industry thrives on change, uncertainty and “reinvention” (as if we could invent something all over again after it has already been invented), so it is only natural that language should become fluid as well. English words bring an aura of modernity and a sense of belonging to a global culture. Who would still have the courage to say “inventory management software” when “enterprise-grade inventory solution” sounds ten times more expensive?
At some point, however, excess becomes grotesque. We have started saying “capabilities” where “capacities” would do, “ownership” instead of “responsibility”, and “skillset” instead of “competence”. We use English words like linguistic plasters: covering confusion with the appearance of expertise.
Language reflects thought, and in business, language betrays intention. And the dominant intention seems to be this: to appear to be more than you are. Every imported term is another small step towards artificiality, another layer of sonic uniformity imposed on thought.
Clarity as the new luxury
On the other hand, there is no need to become purists or nostalgic for the sake of it. We do not live in the age of fountain pens and telegrams, beautiful as that age may have been. Preserving outdated forms simply because they are old is neither consistency nor progress, but stubbornness. English is the lingua franca of the digital world, and business language cannot exist outside it. The problem arises only when speech becomes a form of semantic camouflage – when we stop saying things and start producing beautifully packaged noise.
Words are tools, after all. It is not their fault that we have turned communication into a game of appearances. But it is our responsibility to give them their weight back.
Let us say “programme” when it is a programme. Let us say “team” instead of “cross-functional team”. Let us speak clearly, without fearing that simplicity will make us look less intelligent. Because, in fact, clarity is the new luxury – “new luxury”.
A voice that speaks clearly becomes magnetic. Authenticity is the new differentiator. The abundance of lexical shells is pushing people towards what might be called anti-speech. The Steve Jobs era is over. Companies that communicate honestly, explain things simply and speak their customers’ language, rather than the dialect of KPIs, will win.
Beyond results
And perhaps, one day, instead of “focusing on results”, we will focus on meaning.
Meaning, like truth, does not need buzzwords. It only needs people who know what they want to say – and have the courage to say it clearly. And if we do not know what we are saying, perhaps we should stop borrowing words on the fly. This is not about finding someone to blame, but about rediscovering the basic purpose of communication: to make things easier, not more complicated.
