Lemon

In the aftermath of the calamities of the last month, hundreds of thousands of GSIS members have tried to access benefits due them from the fund. The processing of salary loans and other benefits has been painfully slow, however. The reason for that is the computer failure that has forced GSIS employees to resort to heroic efforts at manually processing the deluge of transactions with the fund.

If you are sweating it out in long cues at some overworked GSIS service station, blame IBM.

Two years ago, the GSIS embarked on an expensive computerization program to dramatically hasten the volumes of transactions it does with member each day. The centerpiece of that program is costly DB2 software peddled by IBM. The software was touted as being capable of integrating several databases into a single system.

Considering that the GSIS has 1.5 million members and conducts tens of thousands of transactions each working day, the new software seemed like a solution from Heaven, its cost notwithstanding. Now, it appears that what the GSIS acquired was a solution from Hell.

Shortly after the software was installed, it began showing problems. The purchaser asked the IBM laboratory in Toronto for help in debugging the system. Some remedial solutions were installed, but the problems persisted.

Early this year, the system failed completely, rendering 90% of the fund’s computer system useless. Fortunately, the GSIS had kept its records safe. But the bulk of transactions now had to be done manually — a situation that required employees of the fund to put in extra time to get transactions moving. This is a throwback to the pre-computer age.

Having failed to remedy the deficiencies in the software, IBM accused the GSIS of mishandling the computerization program. The victim has now become the culprit, by IBM’s version of things.

An exasperated GSIS filed suit to compel IBM to remedy the problem, cover damages done by the software failure and refund the institution if the damn thing would not work at all. IBM countered by filing charges against the buyer ostensibly for damaging its reputation.

Even worse, lawyers for the giant multinational firm hinted they will file charges against journalists reporting the GSIS’ side of the controversy.

But the GSIS is not alone in bearing the woes of what now more positively appears to be a lemon of a software program.

Recently, the London borough of Southwark took IBM to court for exactly the same reasons GSIS did.

Like GSIS, the local government of Southwark purchased expensive software from IBM to integrate its databases into a single system. Like GSIS, the local government wanted to improve the efficiency of its dealings with its constituency.

The IBM software did not deliver on its promises — as in the case of the GSIS. The software actually slowed down progress in updating the local government’s computerization process.

As in the case of the GSIS, the borough of Southwark tried to work out the problem with IBM. No solutions could be found after 18 months of trying the get the software to work properly.

Finally, like the GSIS, the local government of Southwark threw up its hands in exasperation. Southwark has gone to court, seeking to compel IBM to refund whatever was paid for software that could not do what it was advertised as capable of doing.

The local government argues that since public funds were used to purchase the software from the multinational giant, the same must be recovered since the public was not served by the software purchased. Like Southwark, the GSIS might argue as well that public interest was harmed by the failure of the IBM product.

Since the justice system works a little quicker in England than it does here, the case filed by Southwark could have great bearing on the case for a refund filed by the GSIS against IBM.

Perhaps, as it has done here, IBM might choose to put the blame on the local government of Southwark and bring a defamation suit against its erstwhile customer of impugning its reputation.

Rey Magno Teves, 65

He always addressed me “primo”, although we never really found out if we might be related. Wednesday last week, he dropped by my desk at the DBP with a look in his eyes that seemed he wanted to take up something with me. He said nothing; we quietly walked together to our board meeting.

That was how we were: rarely talking about anything much but always appreciating each other’s company. We had dinner for a departing colleague that night and now I recall that Rey Magno Teves was unusually quiet. At the DBP board, we nicknamed him “Elvis” to distinguish from our CEO Rey David as well as Gary Teves who supervised us from the DOF side — and also for his ability to bring any crowd to its feet when he belts out rock-and-roll.

I have known Rey for three decades now. He has been a tireless worker for Mindanao’s development, and unrelenting activist and an unflinching democrat. If he needed me for anything, I never thought twice flying to Davao to run a seminar or simply show up for a rally. Self-effacing and soft-spoken, he has done magic weaving together ideologically diverse groups in his beloved island and representing them in the capital.

Saturday morning, I received the dark news that my “primo” had passed away. Mindanao has lost a patriot and I a friend I always held in high esteem.