Investigative journalism, at least at first glance, is the antithesis of customer service.

There are no “the customer is always right” mantras to rally around: You tell the readers what you think is right, whether they want to hear it or not. There’s no bending over backward to be agreeable, palatable, or within “brand guidelines”: Truth and accuracy are paramount, and the product often comes in an unpleasant, unpredictable package. In the environment of an alt-weekly newspaper —whose heart is the unabashed plain-speak of investigative journalism—how do you learn a single thing about customer service?

You redefine the “customer.”

Even in office environments where kowtowing is the ultimate sin, most employees are still striving to please someone. It may not be the end user of the product; for me, as an editorial assistant, my “customers” were my co-workers: the writers and editors of the newspaper. While they researched, reported, and wrote, I served and supported them, often with mundane but crucial tasks such as replenishing coffee, sorting faxes (yes, it was 2002), and ordering office supplies.

It didn’t take me long to master these tasks and look for ways to improve and streamline these processes. We ordered pens, batteries, highlighters, and other office goods from a local supplier, and it was simple—add the right item numbers to an online form, and several cardboard cartons would appear a day or two later.

Except for reporter’s notebooks. These had to be ordered specially from Portage, in bulk, by phone. I gritted my teeth at the inefficiency of it and was delighted when my local supplier started offering a notebook that was the same size as the Portage notebook. I quickly switched to the new brand and patted myself on the back for the time and energy I saved not having to make, track, and unpack a separate order just for notebooks.

A couple of months later, one of the writers stopped me in the hall. These new notebooks just weren’t as sturdy, he said, and the covers bent too easily. And they were…pastel. He asked if we could switch back to the old standard. I switched back, and sensed a collective sigh of relief in the newsroom when the Portage notebooks reappeared.

In making the switch from the trusty blue-and-white notebooks to the newer pastel notebooks, I missed an important customer service consideration:

A change for the “better” isn’t always better.

What might serve my efficiency as the service provider doesn’t necessarily serve my client. Even when we think we are improving on the offering—remember new Coke?—there may be client desires that we haven’t considered.

So when you’re tempted to “improve” a product or process, be sure to ask: Does this change actually serve my customers—whoever they may be—or am I just serving myself?

It may be an unpleasant question with an answer you don’t want to hear, but, hey, your office can probably use a little more journalistic spirit.