Tag: insulting bosses

This Is What It Feels Like When the CFO Cries


ImagesCAXCD1QBWhen I was a little girl, a preteen, a teenager, my parents always teased me, "Why are you crying?  Feeling sorry for yourself?"  I could've been weeping about some really heart-breaking moment in my life or over a beautiful passage in a book – it didn't matter, their reaction was always the same.

Well, if that was their way of toughening me up, it worked.  But discouraging crying?  Nah, their badgering wasn't successful - I'm still a crier.  Blatant injustices, the disappearance of Earth's beauty, the unfairness of life; but also a goosebumpy music passage, a powerful piece of acting, an especially brilliant bit of storytelling, a rare instance of mesmerizing artistry – all are known to bring quick tears to my eyes.  

But all these occasions allow me to cry secretly – in a privacy of my home; in the darkness of a theater; sometimes in the middle of a crowded place, where nobody knows me (which is the same as being alone); or in front of a few people (can count them on one hand), who are so close to me, most of the time we cry about the same things.  To the rest of the world, however, I'm known as Marina of Steel, always composed and together.  In fact, most people think that I am a gruff bitch.  The mother-fuckers would probably have panic attacks if they saw me all snotty and whimpering - the way I get, when I fight with my daughter.

In my entire career there were only a few occasions, when, while in the office, I simply couldn't hold back tears – the ducts just acted on their own accord, the way they do when you get hit on the nose.  One time, during a meeting, my CEO threw some reports straight into one of my subordinate's face, and I couldn't do anything about it: couldn't protect the victim, couldn't say anything to the boss – just had to watch it happening.  I remember thinking, "God, if somebody else did that in front of me, I would've fucking slapped him.  But I have to pretend that I'm paralyzed, because I need my job!  It hurts!"  And the tears just rolled out involuntary.  

Nearly 20 years ago (God! I was still young then!), a different boss, always insecure about his origins and education, got angry with me, because he forgot to request some analysis he urgently needed, yet expected that I would telepathically infer his wishes.  I was already a Controller and have accomplished some pretty amazing stuff for the company (for which, truth be told, I was very well compensated).  So, I felt pretty secure to simply explain that he never asked for it.  To this he retorted: "You're probably lying that you were always a straight A student.  No doubt your mother bribed your teachers."  There were other people around too, listening…  The randomness and the absurdity of the insult hit me like a ton of bricks.  I was lost for words and my eyes just swelled with tears.  Nothing was to be done or said, of course – my family's well-being was much higher on my list of priorities than my self-esteem.

Just the other day, a business owner, who was my torturer-in-chief at that moment (he is the one who thinks himself a Good Boss), demanded some pretty serious piece of performance analytics to be delivered to him the next day, before his meeting with X.   Considering the available resources, this was impossible to accomplish.  So, I informed him accordingly.  And yes, I'm too fed up with all this bullshit now, so I let a bit of a sarcasm escape me: "How long have you known about this meeting anyway?" I asked him.  "Let me explained to you the idiocy (Miriam-Webster: extreme mental retardation) of this question," he replied and then embarked on a long-winded rant about…  Well, who cares?  And I wasn't listening anymore.  I wanted to laugh, but somehow sparse teardrops started falling down instead.  Thank God, I cried – at least it stopped his blabbering and he left the room.                    

Yeah, things like that…  So, it's true – I cry because I feel sorry for myself.  I'm sorry that my life is nothing what I hoped it would be.  I'm sorry that I don't have enough time to do things that I truly love.  I'm sorry that I always work harder than anybody else would in my place and the rewards never match my efforts.  I'm sorry that I always work for people who are not sophisticated enough to understand my value and appreciate my contribution.  I'm sorry that they always turn out to be insecure assholes.  I'm sorry that, even though I held them in my hands, I let all the means of my personal security slip away.  I'm sorry about so many of my choices that led me to where I am…    

…What is that you are saying?  A pity party? So what if it is?  Nobody else pities me – everyone thinks that I'm some fucking stone.   

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CFO Folklore: Ignorantly Insolent Bosses


Panda AccountantIn accounting and auditing, first two months of a fiscal year (for most, January and February) make up a period of Subsequent Events, which are directly related to a company's previous year's Financial Statements.  Goods listed as 12/31 inventory are (hopefully) selling; last year receivalbes are being collected; cash being disbursed for unpaid expenses that comprised your year-end payables and accruals.  Financial auditors specifically target these post-12/31 sales, receipts, and payments to test the accuracy of the Financial Statements.  

Business owners, most of them lacking formal accounting knowledge, are especially confused about the expenses: they see payments being made now for the last year's interests, services, and commissions, and it worries them that somehow the current period's profitability will be affected.  Never mind that every year you explain to them that these items have been already recognized as expenses in the previous fiscal period through payables and accruals, and, therefore, impact only current cash flow, not the operational performance.  Even the ones who don't ignore your explanations and, furthermore, remember some of the terminology you've used, can't help but be a little disconcerted.

So, let's say last week (a week of 02/11) you have approved a $75K commission payment due to a procurement agent for the fourth quarter of 2012.  It requires a second signature – your boss's.  Now, she sees the check and your approval.  She knows your qualifications and what you've done for her company.  Before meeting you, she didn't know anything about accounting and finance at all, but she has learned a great deal from you.  Yet, she is a Business Owner – someone who is not capable of making an effort to overcome her impulses.  The strength of the "I-pay-you" sentiment in her subconsciousness is empowering.

So, she comes to your office, announces the topic ("This commission check") and tries to formulate the question.  First, she mumbles something about "the last year's income," and then the light bulb comes on in her head and she asks, "Was the expense accrued?"

Your mind is very fast and in a fraction of a second a swarm of neurotic, childish thoughts storms through your head: "Are you fucking joking me?  This is from someone who had no concept of revenue and costs recognition?  From someone who like a fucking bookie recorded everything when cash exchanged hands?  You, bitch, didn't have proper records, reports, financial statements!  Your tax returns were made up!  Did you forget that the bank demanded you hire a CFO before they gave you the credit line?  Now, everyone gets weekly, monthly, quarterly, annual reports and statements, thanks to ME!  I pass audits and bank exams without anybody finding a single error or omission!  How dare you!!!"

But you have two post-graduate degrees, 20 years of business experience, a book on CFO's functionality, 10 years of age, and a lifetime of hard knocks over this privileged pixie financed by her husband.  So, you look her straight in the eyes and calmly, almost jokingly, say, "Are you checking on my work?  Accruals and prepaids is what I do.  This was a 2012 expense and, in accordance with the Generally Accepted Accounting Principles, it was recognized as such."

Look, the truth is you should not get upset at your bosses for who they are.  "…Forgive them, for they know not what they do," and all that.  I always say, they are like spoiled and unruly children, who cannot control themselves.  And as long as you need the salary, you have to continue swallowing their shit pills. 

I wish I could stop taking incidents like that personally.  People with my intellect, background, knowledge, and experience – professional, psychological, cultural – should just brush it off.  Yet again, if I was able to do it, I wouldn't have had this blog.