Monitoring metrics is important, and the industry's IT offerings can help. The systems offer reporting tools, as well as executive dashboard features that let provider management monitor their business performance at a glance. And often, both the reporting tools and dashboard features can be customized by the provider in order to dig down to the data that they feel best represents their business performance.
The sky was heavy with clouds, the dark grey wetness oozing into everything until nothing was dry. Patches of skeletal, leafless trees stood guard over the miles upon miles of sodden, empty cornfields.
The wind blew mercilessly, beating fat raindrops to earth in a miserable drizzle. The winter snows were gone, but spring had yet to appear in its blaze of green glory, leaving the world dull and dead.
A dented red pickup truck trundled along the gravel road, splashing through puddles and potholes alike.
Inside, a talk show fought waves of static for dominion of the radio. The man who drove smoked a cigarette. The woman riding beside him was loading a pistol. The truck turned off the desolate road onto an even more pitiful driveway, little more than a winding dirt path that crept off into the woods.
The trees formed a leaning, claustrophobic tunnel with their gnarled branches, reaching down as if to ensnare the unsuspecting in their grasp.
The truck slowed to a stop at the very end of the path. There stood the decaying shell of what had once been a nice, two-story home, now reduced to a pile of creaking, rotting timber and filthy windows.
Both the man and the woman were wearing blue jeans and camouflage-pattern jackets, nothing unusual for the place and time. The man crushed his spent cigarette under his boot. He had gone through many names in his life: The woman was younger, with green eyes and blonde hair tied into a short ponytail.
Her face was sharp and slender, giving it an almost hawk-like, predatory look. How often are we wrong? He reached for the tarnished knob and found the door open. Scarborough brandished his pistol in front of him as he stepped into house. The living room was dim and filthy: Leaning monoliths of black and white supermarket tabloids stood among the black plastic trash bags, empty beer bottles, and overflowing tobacco spittoons.
The stench was easily comparable either to a dead animal, bad plumbing, or a combination of the two. Scarborough had lost his sense of smell long before.
With a silent hand gesture, the two waded through the refuse towards what was presumably the kitchen. The kitchen was hardly better than the living room, though now most of the garbage consisted of old fast food wrappers and beer cans. None of the appliances were younger than twenty-five years old, and none looked to have been actively used in at least that long.
The only thing of note was the basement door, which hung open at a crooked angle. A comically large number of extra locks had been installed, up to a heavy-duty deadbolt, though at the moment they were hardly fulfilling their intended purpose. The stairs beyond were a black pit.
Scarborough felt the hairs on the back of his neck stick up. It took a second for him to realize the cause of his goosebumps was not any anomaly, but something far more mundane. Montgomery shut the window, with only minor difficulty in moving it from its stuck position.
The ceiling above them creaked loudly. The next ten seconds were breathless, torturous, and silent. When no other sound was heard from upstairs, Scarborough quietly pushed the basement door fully open and felt for the light switch.
The two moved into the basement with haste. The stairs were exceptionally rickety, and creaked even under the trained steps of Scarborough and Montgomery. The basement itself was hardly better: Much of it was filled with the omnipresent trash, along with a dented hot water heater, and some everyday piping and exposed insulation.
One corner of the basement, however, had been repurposed into what could only be described as the workstation of a rather unhealthy mind.
The old wooden desk seemed to sag under the weight atop it. Disorganized mountains of stained manila file folders and worn paperbacks with broken spines cluttered its surface and spilled out onto the floor, all the while hiding a laughably old computer and printer behind their summits.Poor Spelling/Grammar.
Typographical and grammatical errors can be the bane of a formal report. Whether there is one or 10, it can cause a report -- whether a school essay, business document or news story -- to look unprofessional, .
Simon Rogers Every year we try to break down public spending using government annual reports and accounts; and each year it just gets harder. Why? Poorly-formatted text tables can be very frustrating and lead to wrong conclusions.
When creating tables or financial reports, the numbers should be aligned right and the font should have tabular figures that are monospaced or fixed-width, not proportional. A business report is a written document concerning a company or a business institution where evaluations and assessments are laid out to provide a presentation of its current status and performance.
Report writing 3. Writing accounting and finance reports In business, the information provided in reports needs to be easy to find, and written in such a way that the client can understand it.
This is one finance reports; however, it is . 10 flaws with the data on caninariojana.com Unfortunately, raw database dumps are usually poorly formatted, have no associated business rules and have terse field names.
9. Inflation of counts. Annual reports are a good example of this. Although the guidelines to produce an annual report specify transparency and accuracy, the “message” is.