These are my feet. Because I know you were all just thinking, “what I’d really like right now is a photo of Greg’s feet.” Bear with me.

Specifically, this is a photo of my feet in open-toe sandals at Kentucky Horse Park where my daughter was riding, along with a few hundred others, in a competition (picture rush hour traffic, except horses).

Equine Safety 101: Wearing sandals in the presence of horses is a terrible idea. Having a 1,300 pound, steel-shod ungulate step on your almost-bare foot has ER-visit, orthopedic surgery consequences. If that were to happen, you might be justified in saying, “Well, he should have known better.” It is a bad decision.

Here’s the thing: I do know better. Our daughter has been riding for almost a decade. I am no longer a rookie. So why would I make such a stupid decision? Why did I choose to strap on sandals that day? And more generally, why do people so frequently make such obviously bad choices?

Because there is always more to the story. Because in this case, there is context that I have not yet shared, and that you could not know.

I did, in fact, wear responsible, closed-toe shoes to the horse park that weekend, but an unexpected thunderstorm left them soaked when I was forced to run through tall, wet grass in the pouring rain. (Equine Safety 102: horses do NOT like umbrellas, so you won't see horse people carrying them).

After the storm passed, it was apparent that my sopping wet footwear would not be drying any time soon in the steamy Kentucky heat and humidity, so I made a trip to the nearby discount shoe store.

I happened to be in the market for a new pair of sandals, which happened to be on sale. I already have plenty of responsible closed-toe horse park shoes. I did not need another pair, so I bought the sandals. After half a day in dripping shoes and socks, dry footwear was a welcome relief.

With context, the decision becomes a little less obvious. The choice I was faced with was NOT, should I…

a) wear unsafe closed-toe shoes to the horse park, or

b) wear safe, closed-toe shoes to the horse park? (Duh.)

Rather, the real decision was, should I…

a) buy a new pair of closed-toe shoes that I do not need, which are not on sale, but are safer,

b) take a three-hour round trip home to get dry shoes from my closet, or

c) buy a new pair of sandals that I need and which happen to be on sale, but result a non-zero risk of getting stepped on?

Without context, I was an idiot. If I had ended up with a broken foot, you might have felt sorry for me, but you might also have felt like I kind of deserved it.

With context, be honest: would you have made a different choice? Would you have spent twice as much to buy shoes you did not need? Would you have driven three hours for a dry pair?

When evaluating the choices of others, context is everything. The most consequential decisions people make are rarely clean, clear, and obvious. Most often the options are messy, imperfect, and involve a long list of subjective pros and cons.

When others make what we consider bad decisions, there is almost always more to the story. We must consider the context if we are truly interested in understanding, as opposed to just judging. Instead of asking how they could be so foolish or irresponsible, we must instead get curious about how they made sense of the situation. And we must know that the most important context of all, their inner experience, their thoughts and emotions, is forever inaccessible to us, unless we ask. No matter how obvious the choice seems, you are always missing the other person's internal context.

So, the next time you feel tempted to criticize an employee, a co-worker, your boss for their "obviously" bad choice, just remember, don’t judge a horse park dad until you’ve walked a mile in his dripping wet, closed-toe shoes. :-)