Numbers dressed up in fancy suits pretending to be words.
An investment made to offset potential losses in another investment, which is basically placing a bet that your other bet might be wrong. It's the financial equivalent of bringing both sunscreen and an umbrella because you have zero faith in the weather forecast.
The gradual increase in value of a bond as it approaches maturity, or the increase in earnings per share following an acquisition. Basically, when numbers get bigger and finance people get to feel smart about predicting it.
Outstanding customer invoices categorized by how long they've been unpaid, typically in 30-day buckets. The older they get, the more they resemble wine—except instead of improving with age, they become increasingly worthless.
A report categorizing accounts receivable by how long they've been outstanding, typically in 30-day buckets. It's a snapshot of who owes you money and which customers are slow payers or potential deadbeats.
When two companies combine to become one larger, more dysfunctional company with twice the middle management. It's always sold as a "merger of equals" and always ends with one side updating their resumes within six months.
A period when stock prices are rising and everyone suddenly becomes a financial genius, including your Uber driver. It's named after bulls because everyone charges in head-first without thinking, and the ending usually involves someone getting gored.
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.
Pertaining to local city government, or a bond issued by said government that lets you bet on whether a town can pay its debts. Municipal bonds are beloved by tax-averse investors who trust city councils more than they probably should. It's the financial equivalent of believing your local DMV will process your paperwork efficiently.
The bureaucratic art of dividing limited resources among unlimited demands, usually resulting in everyone being equally unhappy. Whether it's budget allocations, resource allocations, or asset allocations, it's about deciding who gets what slice of the pie—and then defending those decisions in seventeen different meetings. Spoiler alert: there's never enough pie.
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.
Additional information buried in the tiny print at the end of financial statements, where companies hide things they're legally required to disclose but hope nobody reads. It's where the interesting stuff actually lives.
The master accounting record containing all financial transactions, organized by account. It's the single source of truth for a company's finances, assuming someone entered everything correctly.
The accounting method where you recognize revenue when earned and expenses when incurred, regardless of when cash actually changes hands. It's like claiming you're rich because people owe you money, even if you're currently broke.
The timeline over which stock options or retirement benefits become owned by the employee, ensuring they can't grab equity and immediately quit. It's the corporate version of 'you have to stay for dessert if you want dessert.'
The total return anticipated on a bond if held until it matures, accounting for current price, par value, coupon interest, and time to maturity. It's what you'll earn assuming the issuer doesn't default, which is a bigger assumption than bond investors like to admit.
A fancy legal term for embezzlement that makes stealing company funds sound almost scholarly. It's the misappropriation of money held in trust or fiduciary capacity, often discovered when the auditors start asking uncomfortable questions.
An accounting method that assigns overhead costs to products based on the activities that actually drive those costs, rather than arbitrary allocations like direct labor hours. It's acknowledging that not all products consume resources equally, which revolutionized cost accounting but requires painful implementation.
The practice of making financial statements look prettier than reality through perfectly legal but ethically questionable timing of transactions. It's like cleaning your apartment only when you know someone's coming over.
Either the total sales a company racks up in a period, or the depressing rate at which employees flee for greener pastures—context is everything. In finance, high turnover is great; in HR, it's a red flag the size of a building. It can also refer to how quickly inventory or assets get cycled through, because apparently one word needs to do the work of five.
A journal entry made at the corporate level above the normal operational accounting system, often used for adjustments or consolidation. It's headquarters overriding local books, sometimes legitimately, sometimes suspiciously.
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.
Short for either 'repurchase agreement' (a fancy overnight loan in finance) or 'repossession' (what happens to your car when payments stop), proving that context is everything. In finance, it's a legitimate short-term borrowing tool where securities serve as collateral; in collections, it's the nightmare scenario involving a tow truck at 3 AM. Tech folks have also hijacked the term for 'repository,' because apparently three definitions weren't confusing enough.
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.
A contra-asset account estimating receivables that customers will never pay, because optimism doesn't belong on a balance sheet. It's acknowledging reality before reality forces you to.