Stacks and stacks of combination locks new in boxes, piled up at the ends of aisles, illuminated from overhead by that hyper-bright Target/Costco/FedMart fluorescence. If Spring is heralded by the swallows' return to Capistrano, this is the signal that the school year is about to begin.
I don't particularly need a lock. I won't be at school often enough for one to be useful. Even if I were, this model is nevertheless not at all practical. You can pick it easily by feeling the tumblers catch if you pull down hard while turning the dial.
I'll allow my mother to buy me one, notwithstanding. It does serve its purpose. Actually as a kind of lock, in a sort of metaphorical way. It holds down the lid on her illusion that I attend school, when in reality that's nearly always the last place I'm likely to be found.