The accounting concept of “timing difference”
We had a delightful colleague at Price Waterhouse. His name was Dawn Ray. He was the life of every party. He loved his drink and delivered his one-liners with great panache. Here is an anecdote.
Dawnda was going alone to the US, and he was flying Air France. A stop-over in Paris was a welcome bonus. This was his first trip to Paris, and he needed some tips.
He did not trust everyone, but because I had travelled much in France and was learning French at Alliance Française, he thought he could turn to me for advice.
He said he had limited foreign currency; therefore, he wanted me to pick the “cheapest and the best hotel” in Paris. I told him that the cheaper hotels were located in questionable locations. Was that a problem? He said he would simply sleep on a bed; the neighbourhood was immaterial.
I suggested to him a small hotel in Rue d’Amsterdam which could be easily accessed from Gare Saint-Lazare. My advice was to put the suitcases at the airport as “left luggage” and carry the overnighter to the hotel and take a train from Paris-Charles de Gaulle Airport (CDG) to Gare Saint-Lazare.
Dawnda took a second piece of advice from Shri Ajit Chakraborty, his partner, who told him, “Paris is full of thieves; do not part with your luggage.”
In those days in PW, it was an axiomatic truth that a partner knew more than a manager (and I was a manager then). So Dawnda wanted to have all three suitcases with him. Then a train was ruled out, and he had to take a taxi.
The first hiccup was when Jean Pierre, the proverbial rude French cab driver, did not understand the destination. Dawnda was saying in English, ‘Take me to Gurrey Saint Lajarey.’ The French pronunciation is “gahr sahn lah-zahr”. He said later, “Moshai taxiwallata kichhu bojhena.” There were no Google Maps then. He pulled out a sheet of scribbled paper, and the taxi driver nodded.
He was delivered to the hotel late morning with three suitcases and a Safari briefcase.
In the evening, like a traditional son of Shyambazar, he had a bath, applied Boroline and sprinkled talcum powder on his chest and wore a pyjama and panjabi and Hawaii chappal and went for a walk. He walked north (uphill) along Rue d’Amsterdam toward Place de Clichy. Then he turned right to Boulevard de Clichy, crossed Moulin Rouge, which to him was a bigger version of the Park Street Bar with the same name, and reached Place de Pigalle as the lights were turning on. Those who have been to Paris know what Pigalle is famous for or infamous for; those who do not ask ChatGPT.
To his surprise, the ladies of the street were trying to strike up a conversation, but they were not going too far because of translation issues. There were no internet-based translators in those days.
Then, according to Dawnda, he went into an “underground bar”, had a couple of drinks and had a conversation which neither side understood except for the universal lingua franca of alcohol.
I asked him, “When did you return?”
He said, “Time flew. I was out for about an hour. It was past 11:30 PM.”
“Good Lord! Dawnda, you were out for four and a half hours.”
Dawnda looked at me with perplexed guilt: “Arre, Roopen, that is the timing difference between France and India.”
Footnote: In accounting, a timing difference occurs when an item of revenue or expense is recognised in the financial statements (book income) in one period but is recognised for tax purposes (taxable income) in a different period.