Chapter 5 - The Time

When the past no longer holds

There is a scene that I have seen repeat itself in many organizations.
The monthly meeting starts.
The numbers are there.
The reporting is ready.
Around the table, the executive committee flips through the presentation.
Then, at one point, the CEO pulls out a printed sheet.
It is not from today.
It is from the previous month.
The gesture is simple.
Almost mechanical.
He takes a number from last month.
The revenue.
The EBITDA.
A variance versus budget.
He mentally adds the performance of the month that has just passed.
And he checks if the result displayed this month is correct.
Last month, the YTD EBITDA was at 1 million euros.
This month, we announce 200,000 euros more.
The YTD should be at 1.2 million.
But that is not the case.
Sometimes, the gap is small.
Sometimes, it is more visible.
But it is there.
The same exercise is repeated on the variances.
Last month, the YTD was at +100k€ versus budget.
This month, we announce an additional outperformance.
And yet, the YTD remains unchanged.
The question arises.
It is rarely aggressive.
Often calmly worded.
"Why doesn't the calculation add up?"
And very quickly, discomfort sets in.
Because nobody likes when the past changes.

Why we reason in time

After these meetings, I always take a moment to step back.
I remember why, despite everything, we reason this way.
Comparing periods is essential.
The month alone says nothing.
It must be put into perspective.
The MoM allows seeing a dynamic.
The YTD smooths out short-term effects.
The comparison to the budget provides a benchmark.
The forecast projects a trajectory.
Without these temporal readings, the number remains raw.
Isolated.
Little usable.
Time is what transforms a one-time performance into management.
It allows telling a story.
To understand if a trend is confirmed or reversed.
I have never seen a finance team stack periods for intellectual comfort.
We do it because it is the only way to give meaning to the numbers.
Because the business reasons over time, not at a given moment.
Time is a reading tool.
A necessary framework.

What time gradually modifies

But as periods accumulate, something changes.
Each month brings its share of corrections.
Entries that arrived late.
Reclassifications.
Cut-off adjustments.
Changes in scope.
Hypotheses that evolve.
Taken individually, each of these movements is legitimate.
Necessary, even.
But collectively, they have a discreet effect.
The past is no longer entirely stable.
A YTD is no longer just the sum of the months shown previously.
It becomes a permanent recomposition.
A number recalculated in light of new information.
This is not immediately visible.
The totals remain consistent.
The explanations exist.
But the intuitive link weakens.
What was true last month is no longer exactly the same this month.
Without anyone deciding to question it.

Freezing the past… and shifting the problem

In the face of this tension, many organizations make a rational decision: to freeze the past.
The closed periods don’t move anymore.
The published numbers remain intact.
This calms comparisons.
The calculation "adds up".
Continuity is preserved.
But this does not eliminate errors.
Nor omissions.
Nor necessary corrections.
The only difference is the place where they express themselves.
The adjustments that would have modified the past now impact the current period.
A late-arriving invoice.
An unrecorded accrual.
A late reclassification.
The performance of the month ends up burdened with corrections that do not really belong to it.
And finance finds itself facing an uncomfortable choice.
Either it explains these effects.
It contextualizes.
It clarifies that the month is "polluted" by the past.
The reading is correct.
But the performance becomes difficult to interpret.
And credibility erodes.
Or it does not mention it.
It protects the apparent stability.
But it feeds the business with a degraded reading.
In both cases, something is lost.

The fatigue of justification

Over time, this situation becomes burdensome.
Each month requires additional explanations.
Each number calls for a note.
Each variance demands a context.
The debate is no longer just on performance.
It is about how to read it.
The operators hesitate.
They ask if the number is "net of exceptional effects."
If it is "comparable."
If they should wait for the following month.
Finance, meanwhile, spends more and more time justifying.
Less analyzing.
Less illuminating.
The numbers are not false.
But their meaning becomes negotiated.
And the longer time passes, the more this negotiation becomes the norm.

Which past are we talking about?

The problem is not time.
It is its quiet accumulation.
The numbers continue to come out.
The reports remain structured.
The processes hold.
But the implicit continuity, the one everyone expects without articulating it, cracks.
The question is no longer only
"Is the number correct?"
It becomes:
"Which past are we still talking about when we look at this number?"
And as long as this question remains implicit,
it continues to weigh on every decision.