Your post reminded me of my instructions for zeroing. I feel they are so excellent that I think they must be recreated in detail here:
How to zero (relevant to the OP since the rifle in question was wearing Optilocks...)
Step 1: put target at 25. Do not bother to bore sight. Do not bother to use a colaminator. Blithely assume that, at this distance, you couldn't possibly need to do either.
Step 2: fire shot. Observe large clod of earth displaced about a foot to the left of the target.
Step 3: refuse to believe, despite the evidence before your eyes, that you can possibly be shooting that far off at ONLY 25 yards.
Step 4: without adjusting anything, fire 2 more shots. The crater a foot to the left of the target grows.
Step 5: reluctantly accept that maybe you should have tried bore sighting, but decide to push on anyway.
Step 6: adjust scope (taking care to forget that 1 click at 25 yards will not move the POI very far at all).
Step 7: fire 2 more shots. Express wild incredulity that, despite moving scope 6 clicks to the right, you are only just shaving the edge of the carboard box.
Step 8: fire 2 more shots just to be sure. The ground behind and slightly to the left of the box is now beginning to resemble the beaten zone on a battlefield. Spend some moments admiring this and musing on the nature of warfare and man's inhumanity to man.
Step 9: continue to forget that 1 click at 25 yards will not move POI verty far. Adjust scope 'a few' more clicks to the right.
[Important note: at every stage, the critical number of clicks to adjust the scope must always be 'a few'. Under no circumstances pay any attention to the helpful notice on the scope turrets informing you that '1 click = 1cm at 100m', and certainly do not use this in a meaningful and constructive way when planning how much to adjust your scope].
Step 10: decide something must be terribly wrong, that Sakos are rubbish rifles and you've been sold a lemon, that Meopta scopes are worthless baked bean tins and that Sako ammo cannot be trusted. In fact, blame the farmer for not mowing the grass in your favourite zeroing field, blame the cows for looking at you funny, blame your pregnant wife for needing to go the toilet twice in the night, and blame everyone on SD just because.
Step 11: revist your musing on the nature of war, and consider the fact that the very impressive craters in the meadow were made by 'only' a .243, and imagine what being under fire from a .50Cal must be like. Congratulate self on being born at the end of the 20th century, rather than the start.
Step 12: adjust the scope 'a great many' clicks to the right (please note that I am a trained scientist, so while 'a few' and 'a great many' may seem arbitrary to the uninitiated, they are well established units of scientific measurement).
Step 13: fire a shot. Feel a wash of immense satisfaction to see it strike within the 2 inch ring.
Step 14: fire 3 more shots, just because it's really very easy to print a group with touching holes at 25 yards.
Step 15: rush these shots and scatter them. Crash into despondency.
Step 16: become aware that you are under observation by 3 five year old girls and their mother. Become needlessly furtive and nervous.
Step 17: accept offer of a daisy chain. Agree that bunnies are cute but eat daddies veggies, so should be shot (mental note to self: rural children are rather more robust and unsentimental than urban ones).
Step 18: accept offer of tea later when have completed recreation of Third Battle of Ypres in the meadow.
Step 19: wait patiently for girls plus chaperone to wander a safe distance away. Promise not to shoot any lambs.
Step 20: Move target box to 100. Roll up sleeves, hitch belt up a notch, spit on hands - generally prepare self for 'the real deal'.
Step 21: Fire a shot. Express utter incredulity that this is now 7 inches high.
Step 22: decide this must be operator error (a rare admission), so refuse to make any adjustments.
Step 23: fire 2 more shots. Feel inordinately pleased that these clover leaf with the first (still 7 inches high). Decide you are a really very good shot indeed.
Step 24: completely forget that, now, (as the scope turrets kindly point out), 1 click really does equal 1 cm.
Step 25: adjust scope 'a great many' clicks down.
Step 26: fire a shot. In horror realise that it has gone 2 inches low.
Step 27: decide that the scope is clearly faulty and that you have a bedding problem with your rifle.
Step 28: roll on back, chew grass stem, contemplate glorious early summer day. Watch buzzards being harrassed by rooks. Listen to skylarks. Try to calculate whether you can afford an EVEN BETTER scope and to have rifle bedded.
Step 29: suddenly remember that 1 click does really equal 1 cm at 100 metres. Congratulate self on deep understanding of ballistics.
Step 30: adjust scope up 'a couple' clicks (this is clearly more precise than 'a few').
Step 31: fire a shot.
Step 32: stare in befuddlement at target through scope. Shot is nowhere to be seen.
Step 33: walk down to target. Dance triumphant jig of joy upon discovering that shot is perfectly in bull.
Step 34: rush back to rifle, loose of 2 more confirmatory shots.
Step 35: plunge into despair when these go wildly wide.
Step 36: using new found maturity and wisdom, accept that this has nothing to do with anything but your own incompetence.
Step 37: calm down. Have a pee. Have a cup of tea. Spend some more time contemplating the glorious Scottish countryside.
Step 38: with the utmost concentration and care, using every scrap of the principles of marksmanship, slowly and methodically fire a 3 shot group.
Step 40: breathe a very long sigh of relief when these form the kind of group you want to pin up in the downstairs loo.
Congratulations - you have just used an entire box of ammo to zero, whiled away a beautiful morning in an idyllic place, and learned precisely nothing (you will do exactly this all over again the next time).