Aren't you glad it floats for all your zestfully clean as a whistle parts

So here's something strange:
I was running some errands at lunch today and wandered into the giant Walgreen's up on Market St, past the huge Old Navy. I only really needed one thing here and that was some soap, as my current bar in the shower is down to an impossibly thin sliver that will break in half any morning now. Anyway, I wandered the aisles of candy bars, snow globes, cheap toys, plastic cablecars, hair dye and feminine hygiene products and finally found the soap aisle. But, all the bar soap was inexplicably shelved behind locked plexiglas doors.

What the...? I mean, a few aisles over were the unprotected razors, and in the other direction all the cough syrups and unregulated dietary supplements were free to be plucked from the shelves. But here in front of me, the Dove and Ivory and Irish Spring were impossible to reach without the daunting task of first finding a store clerk.

I recognize that this store is questionable-neighborhood adjacent. It's basically in the liver of the shopping district though, and visited by thousands of regular shoppers in addition to the local homeless population. And should the store really be upset if their biggest problem is shop-lifted bar soaps? I mean, shouldn't we all be encouraging the personal hygiene of the unfortunate souls who can't afford to bathe in weeks or months?

What's doubley strange is that in the Walgreen's a block and a half away, at the overlap of the shopping district's duodenum and the bladder of the Financial District, the bar soap was out in plain site, free for the nicking. That store doesn't seem to have a similar problem; like maybe stealing soap for a bath in the fountain isn't worth an extra block's walk.

I, however, was more than happy to cross the street to pay for my Lever 2000 without having to find someone to unlock a cabinet. But I'm still not entirely sure I understand what's going on here.