This is it. Here I go.

    Years ago, when I was working residential support, I bought baked beans at a neighborhood bakery. These were intended as a Saturday night treat for the two elderly MR gentlemen that I took care of, it being Maine and that's what we traditionally eat on Saturday nights and all. One of the old guys had a terrible time remembering people's names and he would come up with his own tags for his staff and I was Baked Beans Lady. Until I got fed up and insisted on being called by my own name. Years later, he would still call me Baked Beans now and then, just to yank my chain a bit. Ah memories. The poor old guy died earlier this year and I miss him a little.