The easiest training program to question is the one participants dislike.
They complain that the session was boring, irrelevant, too long, or poorly facilitated. HR receives low ratings. Managers ask whether the program should continue. The provider is required to explain what went wrong.
The more dangerous program is the one everyone likes.
Participants laugh, participate, and give the facilitator excellent scores. They describe the session as inspiring, practical, and one of the best programs they have attended. Leaders see photographs of an energetic room. HR receives warm messages of appreciation. The trainer is invited back.
No one feels an urgent need to examine what happened after the event.
For CEOs, this can become an expensive blind spot. The company keeps funding a program because the experience was successful, even though the business problem that justified the investment remains unchanged.
For L&D leaders, the risk is more personal. A popular program creates goodwill. It strengthens the department’s reputation. Questioning it can feel like questioning your own success.
But participant satisfaction and workplace movement are not the same result.
A program can be enjoyable, memorable, and professionally delivered—and still leave people doing exactly what they did before.
They Loved the Session but Could Not Name the Next Move
I once sat through a full-day leadership session led by an excellent trainer.
The program was structured. The trainer spoke with confidence and used relevant case studies. Participants took notes, answered questions, joined the activities, and appeared interested throughout the day.
Nothing about the session looked careless.
When the program ended, certificates were handed out. People smiled for photographs and thanked the facilitator. From the perspective of event management, the day had gone well.
Then I heard two managers speaking quietly as they prepared to leave.
“So,” one asked, “what are we supposed to do differently next week?”
The other manager could not answer.
Neither could the first.
They had received ideas about leadership. They had heard stories, completed exercises, and perhaps gained useful insights. But the program had not translated those insights into a move they could recognize and use when Monday returned.
That moment stayed with me because it exposed a problem that evaluation forms often miss.
The participants could honestly say they liked the program. They might even recommend it to others. But when asked what they would do differently in a real meeting, decision, handoff, or conversation, the learning became difficult to locate.
They remembered the experience.
They did not yet have a play.
Liking the Program Is Not the Problem
A good program does not need to be unpleasant.
People learn better when they feel respected, involved, and psychologically safe enough to participate. Humour can lower resistance. Stories can make ideas memorable. Activities can help people see patterns they would miss during a lecture.
The trainer does not earn extra points for making everyone miserable.
The problem begins when likability becomes the main evidence that the program worked.
When participants say, “The trainer was engaging,” they are evaluating the trainer’s performance. When they say, “The activities were fun,” they are describing the experience. When they say, “I learned a lot,” they are reporting their perception of learning.
These responses are useful, but none of them proves that the work changed.
People can enjoy a session on accountability and still avoid difficult conversations. They can praise a decision-making program and continue escalating every uncertain choice. They can feel inspired by a leadership academy while remaining unable to explain what they should do differently during the next team meeting.
The danger is not pleasure.
The danger is allowing pleasure to end the investigation.
Popular Programs Become Difficult to Challenge
A weak program usually has visible enemies. Participants resist it. Managers complain about lost time. Sponsors demand revisions.
A popular program builds defenders.
Participants say it should be offered to everyone. Senior leaders remember the laughter and energy when they visited the room. HR collects testimonials that can be used in internal reports. The facilitator becomes associated with a successful employee experience.
The program gains momentum before anyone follows the evidence into work.
That makes it harder to ask uncomfortable questions.
Did participants practise a consequential move, or did they discuss the idea?
Did managers create opportunities for application?
Did the workplace allow the desired behaviour?
Did a case, handoff, decision, response, or conversation improve?
Did the original business problem move?
These questions can sound unnecessarily negative when everyone is celebrating. The program feels successful, so the person asking for proof may be treated as someone who does not understand learning.
But responsible evaluation is not an attack on the trainer or the participants.
It protects the organization from confusing a successful event with a successful intervention.
A Loved Program Can Protect the Wrong Answer
The risk becomes greater when the program was built around a topic rather than a problem.
Suppose leaders say supervisors need more accountability training. L&D provides an energetic program. Participants discuss ownership, complete exercises, and rate the facilitator highly.
Months later, the same errors continue.
The immediate response may be to run the program again, add more modules, or include another level of managers. The original intervention was popular, so the organization assumes it needs wider reach or stronger reinforcement.
But what if the recurring failure is partly caused by obsolete information, conflicting instructions, missing authority, or an ownerless escalation queue?
A popular training program may then teach employees how to compensate for a condition the organization has the power to repair.
In the Meridian case from Impact-First Leaders, an operator selected an inactive code because the old option remained in the system. A short coaching conversation helped correct the next output, but the error returned on another shift because the obsolete option had not been removed. More coaching might have been welcomed and well rated. It also would have required people to keep surviving a bad list.
This is why a complete curriculum is not always a complete response.
The program can be good at what it does and still be the wrong answer to the problem.
Comfort Can Hide the Moment That Matters
The most useful learning moments are not always the most comfortable ones.
A leader may have to recognize that they have been rescuing employees instead of developing them. A manager may need to admit that a recurring problem continues because they have avoided one conversation. A team may discover that the activity everyone performs each week contributes little to the business objective.
These moments create tension.
Trainers sometimes move away from that tension because they want to protect the energy in the room. They thank the participant, soften the insight, and continue with the prepared program.
The session remains smooth.
The shift disappears.
In Create Shifts, I describe a training session where everyone was polite, the exercises were fun, and participants said the experience was interesting. Yet no habits changed, no difficult truth was faced, and no important decision was made. The program had been designed for comfort rather than transformation.
That does not mean trainers should manufacture embarrassment or emotional drama. Tension must be handled responsibly.
But a program designed to create change must eventually bring participants close to the behaviour, choice, or system that keeps the problem alive.
If everyone can complete the session without examining anything consequential, the program may be pleasant because nothing important was placed at risk.
Ask What the Program Makes Possible
Instead of asking only whether participants liked the program, ask what the experience made possible.
Can participants identify the workplace moment where the learning should appear?
Can they perform a useful move in that moment?
Have they practised it with feedback?
Will their managers recognize and reinforce it?
Does the surrounding system allow the move?
What evidence will show that the contribution appeared in daily work?
These questions do not require L&D to claim responsibility for the final business outcome. A leadership program cannot guarantee customer retention, profitability, or employee engagement. Many forces influence those results.
But the program should identify a contribution one step away from the business objective.
If the business wants fewer customer losses, the program might help team leaders ensure that returning complaints receive one owner and a complete response. If the organization wants faster execution, managers might practise presenting options, a recommendation, and a trade-off instead of escalating an unformed problem.
The line should be visible:
Business objective → one-step-away result → leadership move → workplace proof
Without that line, liking the program becomes an easy substitute for knowing whether it contributed.
What CEOs Should Ask Before Funding It Again
CEOs do not need to dismiss positive participant feedback. A program that people respect and enjoy has an advantage. Participants may be more willing to engage, practise, and recommend it.
But positive feedback should open the next question, not close the case.
Before approving another run, ask what the program was meant to move. Ask what participants tried after the session, what happened, and what prevented the new behaviour from continuing.
Look for evidence close to the work.
Did managers hold the conversation they had been avoiding? Did more decisions remain at the correct level? Did a recurring case reach a clear owner sooner? Did the team use the new play when the familiar pressure returned?
The answer may show that the program contributed. It may also show that the design needs improvement, that managers failed to support application, or that the workplace contains a barrier training cannot remove.
Each of those findings is useful.
A high evaluation score cannot tell the CEO which one is true.
What L&D Must Be Willing to Discover
L&D leaders need the courage to learn that a well-loved program may not deserve another rollout in its current form.
That does not erase the quality of the facilitation. It does not mean the participants gained nothing. It means the organization has learned more about the distance between the event and the work.
The next version may need less content and more practice. It may need a manager check-in, clearer decision rights, a repaired workflow, or a smaller pilot built around one critical workplace moment.
In some cases, the responsible answer may be not to train.
That can feel like a loss when the program is popular. But impact-first L&D does not exist to protect programs. It exists to help the organization choose the response most likely to move the problem.
This is also why practical leadership training should not be designed only to earn attention and approval. It should give leaders plays they can practise, use in daily work, and improve through evidence.
Do Not Let Applause End the Evaluation
The two managers who left the leadership session were not rejecting the trainer.
They had listened, participated, and probably enjoyed the day. Their question revealed something the feedback form was unlikely to capture: the program had not yet crossed the final distance into Monday.
That distance matters.
The most dangerous training program is not necessarily the boring one, the badly rated one, or the one people criticize. Those programs are likely to be examined.
The most dangerous program may be the one everyone praises because praise can protect it from the question every organization must still ask:
What changed in the work?
Do not cancel a training program because people liked it.
But never fund it again for that reason alone.
About Jef Menguin
Jef Menguin is a leadership development consultant and motivational speaker. He created The Leader’s Game and Supervisor Factor, practical leadership-development systems that help organizations turn priorities into everyday leadership behavior.
Explore his work in leadership training, discover his motivational speaking programs, or connect with him on LinkedIn.