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(Download PDF) Financial Shenanigans How To Detect Accounting Gimmicks and Fraud in Financial Reports Howard M Schilit Online Ebook All Chapter PDF
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Copyright © 2018 by Howard M. Schilit. All rights reserved. Except
as permitted under the United States Copyright Act of 1976, no part
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In loving memory of Rob Schilit, Howard’s dear brother,
who contributed enormously to prior editions of
Financial Shenanigans, and is an ongoing source of inspiration.
He is sorely missed.
Contents
Preface: Reflections on My Last 25 Years
PART ONE
ESTABLISHING THE FOUNDATION
1 25 Years of Shenanigans
2 Just Touch Up the X-Rays
PART TWO
EARNINGS MANIPULATION SHENANIGANS
3 Earnings Manipulation Shenanigan No. 1: Recording Revenue
Too Soon
4 Earnings Manipulation Shenanigan No. 2: Recording Bogus
Revenue
5 Earnings Manipulation Shenanigan No. 3: Boosting Income
Using One-Time or Unsustainable Activities
6 Earnings Manipulation Shenanigan No. 4: Shifting Current
Expenses to a Later Period
7 Earnings Manipulation Shenanigan No. 5: Employing Other
Techniques to Hide Expenses or Losses
8 Earnings Manipulation Shenanigan No. 6: Shifting Current
Income to a Later Period
9 Earnings Manipulation Shenanigan No. 7: Shifting Future
Expenses to the Current Period
PART THREE
CASH FLOW SHENANIGANS
10 Cash Flow Shenanigan No. 1: Shifting Financing Cash Inflows to
the Operating Section
11 Cash Flow Shenanigan No. 2: Moving Operating Cash Outflows
to Other Sections
12 Cash Flow Shenanigan No. 3: Boosting Operating Cash Flow
Using Unsustainable Activities
PART FOUR
KEY METRIC SHENANIGANS
13 Key Metric Shenanigan No. 1: Showcasing Misleading Metrics
That Overstate Performance
14 Key Metric Shenanigan No. 2: Distorting Balance Sheet Metrics
to Avoid Showing Deterioration
PART FIVE
ACQUISITION ACCOUNTING SHENANIGANS
15 Acquisition Accounting Shenanigan No. 1: Artificially Boosting
Revenue and Earnings
16 Acquisition Accounting Shenanigan No. 2: Inflating Reported
Cash Flow
17 Acquisition Accounting Shenanigan No. 3: Manipulating Key
Metrics
PART SIX
PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER
18 The Unraveling
19 The Forensic Mindset
Index
Acknowledgments
Preface
Reflections on My Last 25 Years
Howard Schilit
Fall 2017
Dear Friends,
Having recently reached my sixty-fifth birthday, I began reflecting on
my life and the many changes over the last quarter century since
writing the first edition of Financial Shenanigans. In short, I feel very
blessed. On a personal level, my wife Diane and I love spending time
with our three young grandchildren, and are eagerly awaiting our
fourth. Professionally, I am enjoying building my second business, a
forensic accounting consultancy called Schilit Forensics, with my
fantastic partners and coauthors, Jeremy Perler and Yoni Engelhart.
In addition to the research engagements we work on for our
clients, we spend a fair amount of time teaching the trade of
forensic accounting—to investors, regulators, journalists, and
graduate students. After a recent presentation at Stanford’s
Graduate School of Business, my partners and I realized that seven
long years had passed since publication of the last edition of
Financial Shenanigans and that almost 25 years had passed since
the first edition. Over that time, more than 100,000 readers have
purchased the book around the globe, including translations in
Chinese, Japanese, and Korean. We’ve learned a lot in the
intervening years, and as such we felt it timely to share with you the
latest accounting tricks as well as a more considered account of the
most important lessons from the last quarter century.
But before turning the pages forward to begin this new edition of
Financial Shenanigans, let’s turn back the clock 25 years to share the
beginning of my search for “shenanigans” and the unexpected and
exciting journey since 1990.
The Beginning—the Early 1990s
As a professor of accounting at American University in Washington,
D.C., I began researching the most prominent accounting frauds
over the prior 40 years. Many have been documented in Accounting
and Auditing Enforcement Releases (AAER) at the U.S. Securities
and Exchange Commission (SEC). I began using many of those
interesting vignettes in teaching my Intermediate Accounting and
Auditing classes. As I saw that the students found those stories
fascinating, I started publishing articles on this subject to share with
a larger group. And, of course, the next logical step to reach an even
greater audience was to write a book.
"You mean you will forgive me? You will, won't you? I truly didn't
mean to get wet and dirty."
How many kisses do you suppose he had then? As for Mrs. Sullivan,
she hasn't found enough yet to do for Rollo, though she keeps doing
nice little things all the time.
NOBLE AND TRICKSY.
TWO dogs they were, and I am about to tell you a true story
concerning them. Tricksy belonged to little Robbie Parker, and was
one of the nicest dogs I ever knew. Robbie thought so; he came to
his mother almost every night with a fresh story of the fellow's
goodness.
"It is a pity he has such a dishonorable name," the mother said. "I
don't like tricky people."
"O, mamma!" would Robbie say. "He is only a dog; but then I know
he wouldn't do any thing mean."
What Nelson saw in the little wretch to please him, it would be hard
to say; and of all things, he was named Noble!
If the names could have been turned about, and "Tricksy" given to
him, I think it would have suited every one but Nelson.
He was a queer fellow, and certainly he had many tricks. Brave old
Tricksy took kindly to him, and used to frolic with him in a dignified
way, and whether it was that being with the little scamp so much he
learned some of his ways or not, I do not know, but certain it is that
the funny thing I am going to tell you, actually happened.
There was nothing that the little scamp named "Noble" liked better
than to have a race with old Tricksy around the great trees on the
lawn. Yes, perhaps there was one thing that he liked almost as well,
and that was, to curl himself on a certain cushion that before he
came, had been the large dog's special property.
Down jumped the little dog in a perfect flutter of delight, and wagged
his tail, and barked his short, sharp barks that said "Oh, good, good!"
and ran to the door.
What did our grave old dog do but turn around very quickly, spring to
the bench behind the stove, curl himself on the cushion, and go to
sleep, leaving the disappointed younger one to bear the loss of his
frolic and his cushion, as best he might!
"He has earned his name!" somebody said, laughing. "O, Tricksy,
Tricksy! We can never say you ought to be called 'Noble' any more."
But what do you think Robbie did? Instead of being delighted with
the sharpness of his dear old dog, he burst into tears.
"Of course it was wicked!" Nelson declared in his most teasing tone.
"My good little Noble wouldn't think of doing such a cheating thing."
NOBLE.
Whether mamma wanted to comfort Robbie or whether she thought
Nelson needed the lesson; or whether it was a little of both reasons
that made her speak just then, I will not stop to tell you, but what she
said was:
"He may have been led astray by bad example. I wonder if it can be
possible that he saw a boy take his slate and book under his arm
yesterday and walk towards the stairs as if he were going to the
library to study, then dodge out at the side door, hide his books
under a rose-bush, and run off to play marbles with the boys?"
Not a word said Nelson; his cheeks grew red, and he looked down
and fumbled with his watch-chain. Do you think his mother could
have meant him?
GIESSBACH.
THE two girls squealed with delight over the picture. "Just see! three
falls, one on top of the other!" declared Fannie. "Oh dear me! How I
should like to see them! You can't tell any thing by looking at a
picture."
"Humph!" said Tom. "Neither did I expect to; I could have imagined
myself in the moon as well as in Colorado, three weeks before I
went; yet I went, and so may you. People can't ever tell what may
happen to them. You just remember that when you do go, there is
one place to see; the falls of Cheyenne Cañon. People who have
seen both, say that there is nothing grander in Switzerland than they
get up in that cañon."
"Tom, what did you think of when you stood looking up at the
wonderful foamy water coming down from so high a place?"
"'I've been thinking how easy it must be for God to make wonderful
things! Here he has made all this white water and tumbled it down
from away up in heaven—that is the way it looks—just for the sake
of giving these old still rocks something bright to play with.'"
RUFUS lay at full length on the sofa, and puffed a cigar, back parlor
though it was; when Mr. Parker reminded him of it, he said there
were no ladies present, and puffed away. Between the puffs he
talked:
The two young sisters of Rufus, Kate and Nannie, stood on the
piazza and laughed.
"O Rufus!" said Kate. "You won't take a prize in college for logic, I'm
sure."
"What do you mean, little monkey? And 'what do you know about
logic?"
"More than you do I should think. Just imagine the country not being
able to afford two millions and a half for missions, when just a few
years ago it paid over four millions for Havana cigars. Have you
thought of that, Rufus?"
"Where did you two grow so wise? Where did you get all those
absurd items?"
"We got them at the Mission Band; Kate is secretary, and I'm
treasurer, and these figures were all in the dialogue that Dr.
Stephens wrote for us to recite. If you choose to call what he says
absurd, I suppose you can; but he is a graduate from a college, and
a theological seminary, beside. I mean to tell him that you think two
millions and a half for foreign missions, will ruin the country; I want to
hear him laugh." And then the two girls laughed merrily.
"You needn't tell him anything about it," said Rufus sharply. After the
girls ran away, he added thoughtfully:
"How fast girls grow up! I thought those two were children; and here
they are with the Mission Bands, and their large words about
'secretaries and treasurers.'"
Large quantities of Swiss lace and Swiss carving find its way to the
United States in the trunks of American travellers; and I have no
doubt that when you visit Europe you will bring away a quantity of
the work of these same Interlaken lace-makers and carvers.
However you may set your face against the folly, you will be sure to
find some things which you must have.
INTERLAKEN.
"C-H-E-S-T-E-R!" It was his mother's voice, and it rang out from her
room in the second story. "Only half an hour until school-time."
"Yes'm," shouted Chester. "I'll be there." But he bent over the tub and
rubbed Sport so fiercely that he howled.
"Keep still, sir," said Chester. "A dog who can't stand being washed
shouldn't have white feet and a white nose; I'm not going to have you
trotting around looking so horrid dirty as you have for a week. Look
here, sir; don't you try to bite me. If you do, you'll get a whipping. I'm
in a hurry."
"My son, you shouldn't have begun with the dogs this morning; you
knew it was late. Let Sport go at once, and leave Beauty until to-
night."
THE CAUSE OF A POOR ARITHMETIC LESSON.
"Can't help it, my boy. You will be late to school, and have a poor
lesson."
Out went Sport to the piece of carpet with which he was rubbed; glad
was he to get out of that horrible tub at any cost. But in went Beauty,
and the soaping, and howling, and splashing, and scolding went on
again. Chester worked fast, no doubt—although I suppose Beauty
did not think so—but before his work was half done, the window of
his mother's room went up with a click that meant business.
"Chester, put that dog on the ground and come here immediately."
Which Chester immediately did, shaking the soapy drops from him
as he went.
I suppose you are not surprised to hear that half an hour afterwards,
in the arithmetic class, he said that seven times eight was ninety-
four, and insisted that such was the case, even after half the girls in
the class were laughing over it. This is about a specimen of the way
in which he knew his entire lesson. Of course he sat gloomily in his
seat during recess, with his arithmetic upside down.
"Chester," his teacher asked, "how is it that you failed on your lesson
this morning?"
"Is that so?" said Mr. Pierson. He thought a great deal of Chester,
who, to tell you the truth, generally had his lesson. His mother often
had trouble about it, but the teacher rarely had. "I think I'll have to
excuse you," his teacher said kindly, "if you really had not the time to
learn it. You may make it up to-morrow."
A very happy boy he was all the evening. He went to bed happy. He
knelt down in his white night-suit and said "Our Father," and then
hopped into bed with a whistle, and the next minute was asleep.
Poor Chester! Why? Oh, to be a boy who disobeyed his mother, and
told two falsehoods, and yet to think so little of it all that he could go
to bed whistling, without even having asked to be forgiven, is to be a
boy who needs pity.
Two falsehoods? Yes, indeed! Didn't he say to his mother, "I'm
coming right away," and go on with his work that she had directed
him to leave? Didn't he tell the teacher he "hadn't time," when the
truth would have been that he chose to take the time which belonged
to the arithmetic for something else?
White and clean! Oh, yes, that is what the dogs were; clean as to
their consciences for that matter, if they had any; for I believe they
acted as well as they knew how all that day. But how was it with
Chester's heart?
"BOY WANTED."
"What sort of a boy does he want, anyway?" one and another would
ask. And then they would say to each other, that they supposed he
was looking for a perfect boy, and in their opinion, he would look a
good while before he found one. Not that there were not plenty of
boys—as many as a dozen used sometimes to appear in the course
of a morning, trying for the situation. Mr. Peters was said to be rich
and boys were very anxious to try to suit him. "All he wants is a
fellow to run of errands; it must be easy work and sure pay." This
was the way they talked to each other. But Mr. Peters wanted more
than a boy to run of errands. John Simmons found that out, and this
was the way he did it. He had been engaged that very morning, and
had been kept busy all the forenoon, at pleasant enough work, and
although he was a lazy fellow, he rather enjoyed the place.
It was towards the middle of the afternoon that he was sent up to the
attic, a dark, dingy place, inhabited by mice and cobwebs.
"You will find a long deep box there," said Mr. Peters, "that I want to
have put in order. It stands right in the middle of the room, you can't
miss it."
John looked doleful. "A long deep box, I should think it was!" he told
himself, as the attic door closed after him. "It would weigh most a
ton, I guess; and what is there in it? Nothing in the world but old
nails, and screws, and pieces of iron, and broken keys and things;
rubbish, the whole of it! Nothing worth touching, and it is as dark as a
pocket up here, and cold, besides; how the wind blows in through
those knotholes! There's a mouse! If there is any thing that I hate, it's
mice! I'll tell you what it is, if old Peters thinks I'm going to stay up
here and tumble over his rusty nails, he's much mistaken. I wasn't
hired for that kind of work."
Whereupon John bounced down the attic stairs, three at a time, and
was found lounging in the show window, half an hour afterwards,
when Mr. Peters appeared.
"Have you put that box in order already?" was the gentleman's
question.
"I didn't find any thing to put in order; there was nothing in it but nails
and things."
"Exactly; it was the 'nails and things' that I wanted put in order; did
you do it?"
"No, sir, it was dark up there, and cold; and I didn't see any thing
worth doing; besides, I thought I was hired to run of errands."
"Oh," said Mr. Peters, "I thought you were hired to do as you were
told." But he smiled pleasantly enough, and at once gave John an
errand to do down town, and the boy went off chuckling, declaring to
himself that he knew how to manage the old fellow; all it needed was
a little standing up for your rights.
Precisely at six o'clock John was called and paid the sum promised
him for a day's work, and then, to his dismay, he was told that his
services would not be needed any more. He asked no questions;
indeed he had time for none, as Mr. Peters immediately closed the
door.
The next morning the old sign "Boy Wanted" appeared in its usual
place.