Con Man

A well dressed gentleman enters a bank, approaches the teller and begins to tell his tale of woe. He says pardon me, madame, I hope you can help me. You see, I’m an English Professor at Northwestern University and I’m a visitor to your fair city and I find myself in need of help. I’m here with my wife and my two daughters and my wife has gone shopping with my oldest daughter and of course taken my wallet which contained my cash and my credit cards and my identification and all that, and I’m alone with my other daughter, who has taken ill in our hotel room. I must buy her some medication immediately but I have no money — obviously, they’ve taken my wallet and my credit cards — but I do have in my jacket pocket, a check. But I, of course, have no identification either, and if you would be kind enough to cash this check for me for 50 dollars, I would be most appreciative. The teller looks him up and down. He’s well dressed, distinguished looking, obviously quite articulate, with a hint of a British accent — that’s always good, right? She says no, I won’t be able to help you sir, because you are a fraud and a liar. At which point she calls for security and they throw his butt out in the street. How did she know?