Death of the Party: Top Cab’s Bad Form

1197046005You might assume that Boston magazine editors get certain perks and/or are constantly lavished with kiss-assery, especially around Best of Boston time. But when trying, desperately, to get to the Shops at the Heritage on the Garden for a shopping event Bostonista was hosting last night, the sweet dispatchers at Top Cab all but refused to help us out, promising to show up within 15 minutes. 35 minutes later, when we called to check on our cab’s status, we were hung up on not once, but twice.

“We were there,” a female dispatcher says. “He left.” Click.

We call back. “No one called me,” we say, with our usual politesse. “Voice mail,” she replies. Again: Click.

We call back. “Can you not hang up, please?” we implore. “No one called me. I’ve been sitting at my desk.”

“Wasn’t me,” same lady says. “But as I told you, the cab left.”

“Well, can we get another?”

“Yeah, sure. But now we’ve got an hour wait.”

This isn’t the first time I’ve had this sort of exchange with the company. And yet I regularly call on Top Cab from my house in Jamaica Plain and the dispatchers, if not the drivers, are always pleasant, honest, and on-time. So tell us, Top Cab, what did Boston magazine ever do to you? We don’t leave food containers in your car; we tip fairly well. Why do you treat us as if we’re going infect your cab with head lice?

Eventually, blisters as proof, we made it to the party and the night’s frustrations were quickly washed away by our favorite party fare—Champagne and cookies, provided by The Catered Affair—good company, and carolers from Victorian Carolers who serenaded the crowd as it traveled from Hermes to Anne Fontaine to Sonia Rykiel and back again.

Meanwhile, If there’s a taxi company out there willing to respond to Bostonista‘s frequent needs for a lift (we shower, we promise), please make yourself known.