A week ago, I wrote about the numerous opportunities to buy college degrees that recently began popping into my e-mail box.

In each offer, they ask you to leave call-back numbers, promising someone will get back with you within 24 hours.

So I called a couple of them. Days passed with no return calls. Then on the day the column ran, the phone rang. The caller identified himself as Jerry, representing Ashbourne University of London.

He apologized for taking so long to return my call.

No problem, I said. I just wanted to see about getting a degree and needed information about the program -- particularly the pricing.

His sales pitch went like this:

"We're a fully recognized distance learning organization," he proclaimed.

Meaning?

"A credentialing institution," he said.

OK.

College, he said, can cost $50,000 or more just for a bachelor's degree. His university can provide a degree for a fraction of that: $2,500.

But wait -- right now there's a special $500 discount "scholarship" offer, he said.

So for only $2,000, I can have the degree of my choice: bachelor's, master's, doctorate -- even graduating summa cum laude. My choice.

Such a deal! Of course, the price of a degree drops considerably when the school has no overhead, such as classrooms and faculty.

A quick Google search turned up an Ashbourne College in London, but its Web site doesn't offer mail-order degrees. In fact, that institution requires absolute class attendance to graduate.

Jerry explained that his "distance learning organization" will grant degrees based upon a person's experiences -- life being the ultimate teacher and all.

"What kinds of things have you done?" he asked.

"Well, I worked a couple of summers in a sawmill," I told him. That is true. I worked in the mill to help pay for college in the 1970s.

He seemed perplexed.

"I'm not sure what kind of major that could fall under," he said.

"How about environmental science?" I asked.

That works, he said. Anything else?

I told him I took guitar lessons one summer. Also true. Tuolumne County summer recreation, 1968. I mastered the C, F and G chords.

That has to be worth at least a master's in music theory, I suggested.

He didn't disagree.

Then I asked what would happen if a prospective employer tried to verify my resumé and ask to see my college records.

No problem, Jerry said.

The school will "create" a transcript, which is a nice way of saying it will give me classroom credit for my experiences. And that is a nicer way of saying they forge the darn thing.

The transcripts and diploma, he said, look really official. They're patterned after UCLA's and they include the normal 8-by-10 diploma and a wallet-sized replica, along with lifetime verification.

Then he shifted the discussion to the form of payment. Did I have a credit card?

No.

Could I FedEx a cashier's check?

Sorry, I said. I don't have $2,000 to spare at the moment. After all, working a couple of summers in a sawmill and a month of guitar lessons didn't exactly enhance my earning power.

"But if you had a degree you'd be able to get a much better job," he countered. I'd have the diploma in hand within days after he received the check, he promised.

I hesitated.

He tried to close the deal.

The package includes a one-year window in which I can alter the transcript or degree at no extra charge before my record becomes permanent, he said.

An ARD -- adjustable rate degree -- with a one-year cap. Boy, you can't beat that.

I said thanks for the information, but no thanks, and ended the call.

And I guess that puts me in an elite class.

I'm a distance learning organization dropout.