Numbers dressed up in fancy suits pretending to be words.
The professional practice of accounting, elevated to sound more prestigious—because 'accountant' apparently needed fancier branding. It encompasses the entire field of financial reporting, auditing, tax preparation, and making sure companies follow arcane rules that change annually. The British prefer this term, Americans less so, but everyone agrees it involves lots of coffee and spreadsheets.
Relating to those mysterious number wizards called actuaries who calculate risk, probability, and future costs using mathematics that would make most people weep. It's the science of predicting when you'll die, how likely your house is to burn down, and how much money a pension fund needs—cheerful stuff. If it involves insurance, statistics, and existential dread, it's probably actuarial.
Anything of value that accountants get to play with on a balance sheet, from office furniture to that sketchy intern who somehow speaks fluent Mandarin. In finance, it's what you own that's theoretically worth something—until the market decides otherwise. Can also refer to a spy, because espionage and spreadsheets both involve secrets.
Money a company owes to suppliers and vendors for goods or services received but not yet paid for. The grown-up version of 'I'll pay you back later,' except with purchase orders and payment terms.
Costs incurred but not yet paid, recorded as liabilities on the balance sheet because accrual accounting insists on acknowledging unpleasant realities before the bills arrive. Financial statements' way of saying 'don't get too excited, you owe money.'
A pre-approved sum of money allocated for specific purposes, whether it's reimbursing employees for business expenses or giving your kid enough cash to learn about financial responsibility (and candy budgets). In corporate speak, it's the amount you're permitted to spend before someone starts asking uncomfortable questions. It's not free money—it's controlled spending with receipts attached.