Anyone who's been unlucky enough to get edited by me knows how much I hate jargon. It's selfish, unclear, and doesn't make for a pleasant reading experience.
That said, I must confess: Jargon can actually improve your writing—if used correctly.
When you're telling a story, 99% of the time you want to tell it in a way that's easy to visualize. Describe the room, describe the characters, explain what's happening in the scene. Here, jargon gets in the way.
But! (and this is an important "but") if there's an opportunity to use specific, technical language to draw attention to a part of the story, I say go for it.
And here's why.
Jargon is a tool. It's mostly used irresponsibly, to impress the listener or reader, or because it simply doesn't occur to the storyteller that no one has any idea what they're talking about.
However, jargon can be used to build credibility, too. It can immerse the reader in the finer points of the setting of the story, or the craft being described.
For example, in Matthew Crawford's Shop Class As Soulcraft, the author often goes into great detail describing how he's repairing a motorcycle. He simplifies nothing—the descriptions are often loaded with jargon about parts I don't understand.
But the feeling I'm left with is somehow more important than the understanding, and I suspect that was his aim. The book is about appreciating the finer aspects of manual labor. Without taking me into the weeds, his depth of mastery and love for repairing bikes wouldn't come through.
Here's one such passage, in which Crawford describes checking for oil leaks:
Once everything is spick-and-span, I'll sometimes spray all the suspect areas with athlete's food powder spray. (The powder is white, and clings to surfaces, so oil leaks become more visible.) But before you can check for oil leaks, the bike needs to run. So you may need to spend a lot of time removing carburetors, disassembling and cleaning them, sorting out buggered wiring, and who knows what all, before you can fire the thing up. That is, before you can say whether it has a serious oil leak, which if you had known at the outset, would have made the bike not worth putting all this effort into.
Jargon, in this case, works to enhance the writing. It conveys a depth of understanding in an unselfish way, so that the reader can feel the complexity the author's working with—in this example, with motorcycle repair.
You can use jargon for a similar effect in whatever domain appears in your story. Maybe it's cooking, fishing, or statistics.
By giving the reader or listener a flavor for the technical side of your preferred craft or discipline, you take them deeper into your world. You can create an experience of delight, because you're taking them inside a world they may never encounter otherwise.
Just be sure to treat jargon in your story as you would salt in a dish. Some is better than none, but the spice is never the star. Add too much, and you'll ruin the meal.