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Charlotte Parsons

Glazed eyeballs, mild nausea, waves of panic and even hallucinations. Symptoms of the all night 'cram sesh.'  Last-Minute Lai See suffered through many of them during the exam periods of yesteryear.

 For some reason, term's end always found her unprepared.

 Perhaps because it always found her in the school pub.

 Anyway, we are all too familiar with the dreaded Day Before The Final Exam.

 It begins with the frantic sprint to the campus shop to buy the textbooks and course material.

 Then some desperate eyelash batting to charm the lecture notes out of That Ugly Kid who actually went.

 Ahead yawns the endless night. The universe narrows to books, coffee pot and ordered-in pizza.

 With 5am comes doubling vision, making it harder to decipher That Ugly Kid's handwriting.

 It's all just a little too much like hard work.

 And so unnecessary.

 After all, for a mere US$200, you can buy any degree you like.

 A 'prestigious, non-accredited university' in America is doling them out.

 The outfit dropped their Internet ad into our box.

 The unnamed 'school' allows lazy scholars to win the bachelor's or master's degree of their choice with a simple phone call.

 Even a doctorate is within your grasp.

 Dr Lai See, PhD.

 You have to admit, it has a certain ring to it.

 We called up the number provided and left a message after a machine assured us we were desperately important to them.

 The Americans didn't call back. Perhaps they were put off by our long distance phone number.

 Anyway, this school isn't one for the books.

 Its faculty members believe pupils should receive recognition just for being themselves.

 The classless university's degrees are based on 'life experience'.

 'No further effort is required on your part', the Net ad reassures work-a-phobes.

 Just dial the number, pay the money, and you can skip over the campus.

 Of course, there are drawbacks. Like the fact that no employer on earth will have heard of your school.

 And anyone who actually has will burst out laughing while making a paper plane out of your diploma.

 If this bothers you, consider a quick trip to the Philippines.

 Manila's Recto Street will soon sort you out.

 Shops clustered there openly peddle fake versions of every degree imaginable.

 Hence the street's nickname 'Recto University'.

 The hawkers ply their trade alongside wooden boards plastered with fake diplomas.

 A seller told the Associated Press the yellowed documents were dipped in coffee 'to give them age'.

 The counterfeiting syndicate is so organised it has files of the names and signatures of the appropriate school officials for diplomas issued in any given year.

 This is of course illegal, and theoretically punishable by up to 12 years in prison. But in the crime-frenzied Philippines, police aren't that interested.

 Fake diplomas are the least of their worries.

 Not so the SAR.

 A former Hong Kong Automobile Association (HKAA) general manager went to jail for lying on his resume.

 Clement Tam Po-kon told his employers he'd earned a second class honours bachelor degree in business administration from the Chinese University.

 During the job interview, a fake degree was produced.

 This came back to haunt him later, when he attracted the attention of the ICAC.

 The trouble started when Tam began taking loans from colleagues and associates.

 While he was being questioned about this, the general manager admitted that there'd been a degree of deception at the job interview.

 Ironically, HKAA had been perfectly happy with his work until the loans began.

 This failed to prevent Tam from being jailed over the fudged cv. Bit of a career-stopper, that.

 Still, he could always apply for a job with the civil service.

 According to his latest cv, Tam did some consulting with the ICAC, and has nine month's experience with the Correctional Services Department.



Degree of difficulty in lessons on life