Humour

The upgrade spiral

T A Balasubramanian on the debate over technology upgrade in Mughal Corp

The Moghul Corporation, abbreviated simply as the Moghul, is in the middle of another epic enterprise battle of wits. The lines are drawn, as usual, between Baba Bahadur, the enduring and peace-loving CIO of Moghul, on the one hand, and on the other, the massed viziers and their deputies, all assembled in the hall of the grand durbar.

Presiding over the rituals is the owner and CEO of Moghul, Aurangazeb, who is also hailed by his slaves as Moghul-e-Aura, or simply, the Aura. In these historic gatherings, Aura watches over the proceedings with a lotus in his hand, occasionally sniffing the petals and sighing deeply.

Nana Findaloo, Moghul’s unflappable CFO and Chief Vizier, is the one who is most likely to make Bahadur’s life quite unpleasant, if not miserable, because that’s what Findaloo is good at doing. All in the name of corporate progress, though the impression created is that of a feudal battle where only the wiliest can survive.

In the present skirmish, the issue is about technology upgrades—or rather, the need, or lack of need, for regular upgrades. Bahadur is in the dock for the simple reason that he is insisting on finding a way to bring in—maybe even framing a royal decree to get—the latest technology into the fuddy-duddy environs of the Moghul, whereas Findaloo believes that the CIO is doing this dastardly thing because he is interested in that technology as a great trophy for his own walls, and not because it makes good business sense.

Here then is Bahadur’s rendering of the session, in his own imperishable words.

The first round, as usual, begins with Findaloo saying, “The main question that we have today, Bahadur, is whether it makes good sense to acquire technology simply because it’s new?”

The royal ‘we’ that Findaloo has unleashed is not a good sign. This is going to be a long session, and I make an attempt to be as sensible and sweet as I can be. Even a little humourous, if I can get away with it.

“There is a study of new technology by the well-known consulting firm, Duckbill & Goose that warns of this quirk found in CIOs who are intoxicated with technology. They talk about technology-drunk CIOs who upgrade because it is time to upgrade,” Findaloo says.

“Nanaji, that is correct,” I say, playing a positive card by agreeing with him, using my mildest tone of voice and bowing in his direction, “but, as you know, I am not a drinker, except for plain water or sherbet or lassi.”

I toss a smile around the group of beady eyes and finally at Aurangazeb, who waves the lotus at me encouragingly. But he does this to everyone who gets up to speak, so I do not know if it is significant. “When this quirk, as you call it, manifests itself in this way, the technology-drunk CIO fails to realise there are sound business reasons to not upgrade, you see.”

“We are listening, Bahadur,” says Findaloo, his eyes unblinking.

“There are benefits to the company, each of which translates into costs,” I continue, evenly. “Though they may not be immediately apparent. The other reason is what one may say is true of marriages everywhere.”

“Marriages are important,” says Aura suddenly. “They are necessary for taking the line of succession ahead from one generation to the next. I have to think of my dynasty.”

“Yes, Huzoor,” I reassure him quickly, then turn to address Findaloo. “Marriage is about overcoming compatibility issues—in this case, data compatibility,” I explain. “Now you would not find me recommending a good gadget or a gleaming new software package just because I am drunk on technology or because it is really hot to possess, would you?” I ask, rhetorically. “What I can tell you is that Moghul is resisting the advances of technology only because I see no reason to splurge.”

“Examples, Bahadur. We need examples.”

“Of course, Nanaji. Every desktop in Moghul still runs Windows 3.1, and we are known for running a low-cost, desktop environment that has been put into the history books everywhere else,” I say. “Do you know how much of a struggle it has been to resist even going up to new versions like Windows 98 or even 95? And the rest of the planet is already on Windows XP,” I sigh, exasperatedly.

“So? You have a reason for holding back, I presume?”

“Yes, indeed, Nanaji. Upgrading would be expensive, and the older operating system suits Moghul’s needs. The minute we get a compelling business reason to upgrade, we will upgrade,” I say, with an emphatic fist shake, careful not to show my distress. Oh, the dreadful things we CIOs have to do to stay in our seats.

The effect is not lost on Aura. He raises his lotus and waves it at me. But I can see that Findaloo is not entirely convinced.

“Nanaji, with PCs, most of the durbar, not all of us, do not need more functions or power—we have far more than we need on our desks already. But if some of our troopers want things to be done better, faster or in bigger volumes, then we must upgrade what they’re using, provided we can afford it, and provided that the benefit outweighs the cost.”

“Now that is a good word—cost. But who are these troopers wanting more? How do we find out what they want?” says Findaloo.

“That’s the difficult part, Nanaji. It takes time to ask that question of each of several thousand PC users in Moghul, which is why we originally created annual replacement strategies. Now you may say that your main objection to management policies of this type is that they quickly become accepted practice. We are rarely inclined to re-evaluate them because they hide so well behind the cover of company practices. Not this one, however. Since we’re on the subject, let me request you to make our PC replacement policy an on-demand-check policy.”

“How would that work?” says Findaloo, wary instantly.

“Upgrade when someone demands it, but we check that they really need the upgrade. They may not need to upgrade either hardware or software.”

“What else would it mean?”

“It might refer to upgrading their ‘headware’—or ‘training,’ if I may make it less esoteric. Knowing how to use an application properly does far more to increase productivity than adding another million Hertz of raw computing power.”

“Ah, so we will have a replacement policy with some control,” says Findaloo, pleased that he has found a way to put a collar on me. Or so I let him believe. “We have control, we have everything,” he recites, looking at Aura for confirmation.

“We have everything in the lotus,” says Aura, as he regally gets up and walks away with several viziers trailing behind him. Some of them had lotus flowers in their hands, too.

For the forefathers of the original Aurangazeb, it took many years of struggle to learn the usefulness of an upgrade policy—even if was only to continue the dynasty from one nasty war zone to another. Aura, the present lotus-loving inheritor at Moghul, seems to have all but given up the battle. But then again, he still has a shrewd commander like Nana Findaloo in the front line of succession.