If you’ve ever been handed a beautifully wrapped gift only to find something bewildering inside — say, a taxidermied iguana when you were hoping for a nice bottle of wine—you already understand the essence of Problem 3: incongruence.

In learning, incongruence happens when the approach, style, or format of instruction clashes spectacularly with the learner’s preferences, temperament, or expectations. Like being offered a romantic poem when you really just wanted the bullet-point summary.

This is one of the most persistent problems because, frankly, it’s easy to underestimate how much delivery matters. Many learning professionals work from a kind of default template: Here is the content. Here is the slide deck. Here is the quiz. Off you go.

And yet, when we consider buying behavior, we instantly recognize the importance of alignment. Imagine you’re buying a new smartphone. You walk into a store expecting to touch the devices, swipe the screens, and compare camera quality. But instead, the salesperson stands on a stage and delivers a 45-minute lecture about the specifications—no demo, no questions, no hands-on trial. You’d probably slip out the side door and order online instead.

Learning is no different. When there is a gap between the learner’s preferred way of engaging and the style of the material, the mind drifts. Sometimes irretrievably.

The Unseen Impact of Incongruence

I once worked on a training project for a large professional services firm that needed a compliance module on ethical conduct. (You can almost feel the excitement, can’t you?)

The design team developed a dense, text-heavy e-learning course—lots of corporate policy language, a few stock photos of earnest people shaking hands, and an obligatory final quiz. When pilot learners got their first look, their reactions ranged from mild dismay to actual panic.

The feedback was clear: “This feels like homework.”

This was a classic case of incongruence. The learners — high-energy consultants accustomed to solving problems collaboratively — were forced into an isolated, text-based slog. The content itself was important, but the way it was delivered was demotivating.

We regrouped and reimagined the program as a scenario-based workshop where learners debated real-world ethical dilemmas in teams. The energy shifted instantly. Engagement improved. Knowledge retention went up. People even smiled.

Lesson learned: The problem wasn’t the topic. It was the style.

Diagnosing the Mismatch

There are many ways that style incongruence shows up:

Pace mismatch: Some learners thrive on brisk, high-energy delivery. Others need time to reflect and absorb.

Format mismatch: Visual learners crave diagrams and models, while others prefer stories or hands-on practice.

Tone mismatch: A lighthearted tone can feel disrespectful in serious contexts; an overly formal tone can feel oppressive.

Just as buyers evaluate not only what they’re buying but how it’s presented (Does the store vibe match my tastes? Do I feel comfortable here?), learners subconsciously ask themselves: Is this the kind of experience I can relate to?

If the answer is no, you’ve lost them.

Bridging the Gap

How do we get better at closing the style gap? Here are a few approaches I’ve seen work:

1. Do the homework.

Conduct a learner profile assessment before designing content. What are their past experiences? What learning methods do they trust? What tools do they already use?

2. Offer options.

Just as retailers offer different shopping experiences — browse online, visit a flagship store, or chat with a specialist — we can offer multiple pathways. Maybe the same content can be consumed as an infographic, a video explainer, or a live discussion.

3. Test and iterate.

Prototype learning modules with representative learners. Watch how they react. Ask them what felt natural and what didn’t.

4. Mind the tone.

Even small shifts in tone can create big improvements. A dash of humor, a more conversational voice, or an explicit acknowledgment of the learner’s context can transform perception.

From Incongruence to Engagement

Ultimately, addressing incongruence is about respect. It’s about acknowledging that learners—like buyers—bring preferences, histories, and expectations into every interaction.

And it’s about meeting them where they are, not where it’s most convenient for us to stand.

When we get this right, learning becomes less like an awkward dinner party and more like a well-set table where everyone feels welcome.

Next time you design a program, ask yourself: If I were on the receiving end, would this feel natural and engaging — or like that taxidermied iguana?

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