Still smarter than a scammer

You look for hope wherever you can find it.
Because someone tried to scam me on a job listing, and I didn't fall for it, I'm marking it as my tithe to the non-dumbass club for today. Mensa will take me yet, job or no.
The job described being a tutor for a young student a few hours a day, preferably during the holiday break. Seemed easy enough for someone who'd spent a fair part of his life trying to "tutor" the public through newspaper stories, although I suspect many of those stories were used to "tutor" a parakeet's hind quarters.
I replied. Quickly, a reply came back. And intrigue blossomed.
The person claimed to be a doctor in Scotland, but originally from St. Louis. Judging by the letter's syntax, I was mistaken in believing both places had English as a principal language.
The doctor had a 13-year-old son who needed to be tutored in English and algebra (ha! who says you'll never use it after high school!) three times a week, at my house.
Mind you, I live in Sacramento. Commuting distance to Scotland or St. Louis, it's not.
No problem, the doc replied. The boy will be there on holiday(his term, presumably stemming from his Scottish *snicker* roots). Yes, the winter holidays are known as the season to visit around here, unless the tule fog causes your plane to land in Lake Tahoe.
One other point of note: The doctor made casual mention that as soon as possible, he wanted to work out a way for me to get paid.
My background as a consumer reporter told me this: He wants your bank account number. And my background as a smart ass nearly compelled me to respond: I'm holding up my account number right now, and you can count it on one finger.
But that's not the reply I gave. Instead, I asked directly but politely for evidence that the good doctor was in fact not sitting in an Internet cafe in Burkina Faso -- I know, normally it's Nigeria, but Burkina Faso is a cooler name -- with a doctoral degree printed on a high-quality napkin.
So far, no reply. Off to the printer for better degree stock, one guesses.
Until further correspondence, I will disregard the job offer. And just as well, his kid was probably a brat who would've eaten my Cheez-Its and broke my PlayStation 2.
And right now, that's my job.