Under GAAP accounting, corporations can take credit on their financial statements for an anticipated gain on pension investments once benefits payments and administrative costs are accounted for. Under GAAP, that excess can be counted toward net income. On the balance sheet, a positive return can appear as an asset or a diminished liability.
But while a defined-benefit plan surplus is a corporate asset, it’s an asst that’s damned near impossible to liquidate. Indeed, surplus pension assets are held in trust funds that corporations can tap only to pay benefits.
The only way a plan sponsor can gain pocket excess pension income is by unraveling the plan — and distributing the benefits via annuities or similar vehicles. That, of course, would mean paying substantial taxes on the money that remains after the benefits are distributed. Says Ehrhardt: “They can’t access that surplus in any tax-efficient method.”
Rather than unraveling over-funded plans, companies have used pension investment gains to make up for plummeting corporate revenues. Indeed, thanks to widespread use of asset-smoothing techniques, many plan sponsors have been able to bask in the glow of the nineties bull market long after that boom went bust. (Under FAS 87, companies can spread pension gains and losses over a five-year period, or a shorter timetable.)
Thus, even though the total surplus assets of the pension plans of 50 of the biggest U.S. corporations dropped by $100 billion in 2001, the income of those plans actually rose $4 billion (from $92 billion to $96 billion), according to a survey of the plans by Milliman USA. The firm reckons that at least 22 of those companies use asset-smoothing techniques.
The problem for many of these companies: Their giddy growth projections for their pension investments now look hopelessly out of reach. Even in 2000, when the stock market justified optimism, corporations were overly buoyant in their projections. On average, employers predicted that their pension plans investments would yield a 9.38 percent return, or more than $51 billion. As it turned out, the actual return was slightly less impressive–around $14 billion.
What’s more, it seems experience was a poor teacher. Despite missing their 2000 investment targets by a country mile, corporate forecasters forged ahead and bumped up their predicted pension plan returns for 2001. For that year, plan sponsors forecast their pension plan investments would generate a 9.39 percent return.
They were wrong. Rather than clocking a 9.39 percent investment return, plan sponsors got clocked, losing $36 million on their investments. For the two years, plan sponsors were off by $90 billion in their investment forecasts.
As a result, the pension plans of 28 of the companies surveyed in the Milliman USA study recorded deficits in 2001, with nine showing deficits of more than $1 billion. General Motors, for instance, saw its $7 billion 1999 pension surplus turn into a $9 billion deficit by 2001 — the biggest deficit by far among the companies surveyed.
To be sure, some corporations pension plans were so overfunded that the investment losses, while huge, didn’t cut that close to the bone. While Verizon saw more than half its pension-plan surplus vanish in 2001, that still left the company with a $12 billion surfeit.
“This isn’t a story about benefits not being there,” concedes Ehrhardt, noting that the plans of the companies surveyed still cumulatively sport an $18 billion surplus. But next year, he cautions, some companies will have to inject cash into their plans.
Scylla and Charybdis
This year, CFOs will no doubt feel pressure to slash aggressive pension forecasts.
Such a move will involve considerable pain, however. Lowering the return assumptions could leave a big hole in corporate income statements. In 2001, for instance, cutting the expected rate of return on pension plan investments by one percentage point would have depleted corporate earnings by $5.7 billion, according to the Milliman study.
Nevertheless, if plan sponsors again come in with sky-high forecasts, that may lead auditors and investors to “question all the numbers” on a company’s financial statements, says Ehrhardt.
That’s not a happy scenario for any finance chief — particular a CFO who pushes the bookkeeping envelope. As Ehrhardt notes, some finance chiefs will want to avoid any suggestion “that their companies are milking the pension plan to sweeten the bottom line.”
Even if they are.