Not a story of a public prat-hood, but embarrassing
Dropped my pax at a small Gulf of Mexico pad and cleared that single-ship pad by hopping to that field's crew quarters deck, shut down, grabbed some reading material out of my flight bag, and went downstairs to the galley to standby.
Passengers call for pickup and reposition to the next station, so I gulp my coffee and head out. Fold and stick the periodical in my hip pocket, up 5 flights of stairs, return the magazine to my bag, climb in and start. Pulling pitch, I see a wallet blow over the side, into the Gulf, scattering bills and stuff, and think "Somebody's going to miss that."
Drop the pax at the base, secure the aircraft, go to the vending machine, and- no wallet. Not only that, it's break day, I have no money and no credit cards for the 500 mile, overnight drive. Fortunately, it's a big base, lots of pilots with senses of humor and generous to boot.