The biggest jackpot prize in the Philippine Charity Sweepstakes Office is P1,180,622,508, won by two bettors from Albay and Samar on Oct. 14, 2018.
Some people make a mental note of that event, refusing in fact to place their bets until the jackpot prize has grown big enough to their liking.
That prompted PCSO General Manager Mel Robles to launch on Dec. 16 last year Handog Pakabog, which increased the jackpot prize to P500 million for the 6/55 and 6/58 lotto games. A hefty jackpot prize is a winning proposition, for PCSO as well as for the bettors. In the weeks of the historic 6/55 and 6/58 draws, PCSO registered an unprecedented sales increase.
The revenue stream has since tapered off, so maybe the agency should renew the promo from time to time, say every quarter, to bring back bettors into a state of frenzy. The jackpot prizes have since been won, and so 6/55 and 6/58 pots have reverted back to their respective pre-promotion amounts.
The agency also conducts draws for 6/42, 6/45, and 6/49, with varying guaranteed initial prize money each. A big chunk of the agency’s net receipt, 55 percent, is allotted for prizes. Fully, 30 percent goes to medical assistance, relief operations, and other charity projects. Operation (salaries, rentals, utilities) gets the remaining 15 percent.
The PCSO sales trajectory has climbed to historic highs. That proves, according to the general manager, that the agency’s top management has been able to foster trust in the system and in the people who run it.
Over a two-week period last year, from Nov. 1 to 15, PCSO attained P1.23 billion gross sales. All the data available so far indicate that the agency will be able to reach its P53.25 billion sales target for the year. It may even surpass it.
As far as people are concerned, assisting people is the PCSO’s only reason for existence, and they’re right on the mark. What they may not be aware of is the fact that the agency pays taxes equivalent to 20 percent of its revenue. “I could use the amount to expand our charity program,” Mr. Robles said. “I couldn’t complain though.
The government spends every peso for that very purpose in a roundabout way, after Congress includes the money in the annual Appropriations Act.” There are rumors going around that PCSO rigs the system to favor certain individuals.
Alas, the rumors become credible when conflated with real examples of corruption: the P15 billion PhilHealth scam and the P8.68 billion Phamally overprice, for instance That could derail PCSO’s operation, with catastrophic results. In a country with a weak health-care system, the agency represents the only hope of deliverance for the poor when a serious illness strikes.
Even a middle class family, if left to fend for itself, could go bankrupt. In a no-holds-barred, free-wheeling conversation with members of Capampangan sa Media Inc. or CAMI in Clark Global City recently, Mr. Robles chose to laugh off the rumors, rather than make an emotionally charged, condemnatory approach on the matter.
“Claims of PCSO manipulation is delightfully malicious,” Mr. Robles said with amusement. “That is why some people are drawn to them. I just hope they consider the evidence.”
Here’s how the system works. To determine the winner, the lotto machine draws six numbered balls one at a time. There is no human intervention involved, except when someone, usually a representative from the public, presses the button to switch on the machine.
The Commission on Audit oversees the whole process. And it is all televised for all the world to see. “If anyone could predict the winner, I would like to talk to him,” Mr. Robles said. “Maybe we could split the jackpot prize. I could live comfortably in retirement on that kind of money.”