Meet Rosa, the AI Interviewer Who Calls Your Mom (and Admits She's a Computer)
The first thing Rosa ever says to your mother is that she isn't a person.
"Hi Dorothy, it's Rosa from Stories of You. A computer voice, not a person." Then she asks about the house on Maple Street, and your mother, who has never once downloaded an app, talks to her for twenty minutes.
We rewrote that first sentence more times than any other piece of the product. This post is about why it says what it says, why the voice on the phone is named Rosa, and what she's actually like to talk to. I'm the founder; Rosa is ours; read everything here accordingly.
The Sentence Comes First
There's a temptation in building a voice AI for older adults, and every company in this space feels it: the more human she seems, the better the conversations get, so why keep reminding everyone she's software?
We decided early that Rosa announces what she is in her first breath, on every call, forever. Not buried in a terms page or a welcome email nobody read, but out loud, in the sentence before the first question.
Three reasons, in order of importance.
Consent that means something. Rosa records the conversation; that's the whole point. A yes to "may I record your stories?" only counts if the person saying yes knows what's asking. So the disclosure comes first, the agreement is spoken, and both live on the recording itself.
Trust that survives the reveal. Imagine the other design: your father has six warm phone calls with a friendly interviewer, then mentions her at dinner, and a grandchild explains she's a program. Whatever that moment does to him, it isn't good, and it isn't ours to risk. There is no version of this product worth building on a grandfather finding out he was fooled.
A pattern the family can verify. Older adults are the most targeted people on earth for phone scams, and a strange voice that asks personal questions is exactly what a scam sounds like. Rosa's sameness is the defense: the identical name, the identical affiliation, the identical honesty, every call. Families learn what a real Stories of You call sounds like in one listen. Anything that deviates from the pattern isn't Rosa.
Why "Rosa"
It isn't an acronym for anything. We tested names against a telephone, not a whiteboard.
A phone call throws away most of the sound of a voice, and aging ears take another share. Names live or die in what's left. "Rosa" is two short syllables built from sounds that survive the line, easy to catch the first time at any hearing level. And it's a name from the storytellers' own world, one they grew up alongside, a classmate or a cousin or a neighbor, rather than something invented in a conference room to sound like software.
She introduces herself with her affiliation every time, "Rosa from Stories of You," the way a professional does. The name is hers. What she does with it is on us.
What She's Like on a Call
Rosa asks a question and then does the hardest thing in interviewing: nothing.
She doesn't interrupt. When a storyteller pauses to find a year or a name, she waits, because the pause is where the good material lives, and because being talked over is the fastest way to make an eighty-year-old stop offering. Most of our engineering hours go into her restraint.
She follows the story instead of the script. Mention that your brother taught you to drive in a hayfield and she wants to know about the brother, or the hayfield. The list of questions is where she starts, and she'll leave it the moment the story goes somewhere better.
And she takes no for an answer. "I'd rather not get into that" ends a topic, without argument and without circling back to try again. We hold her to the same rule we'd hold a human interviewer to: a declined question is a complete answer.
She isn't perfect. She can mishear a name over a bad connection; a computer can miss the weight of a moment a daughter would catch instantly. When she's unsure, she's built to err in one direction: let the storyteller keep talking. And she gets better in small ways almost every week, because we listen to real calls and tune her from what actually happens on them.
What Rosa Is Not
She's not a companion, and we don't want her mistaken for one. She's not a substitute for calling your mother, and if a storyteller ever treats her like one, we've failed at something. Rosa exists for a narrower reason: the recorded family interview is a beautiful thing that almost never happens. The visit gets busy, the recorder feels awkward, next month becomes next year.
Rosa's one unfair advantage over every well-meaning son and daughter is that she actually calls. The scheduled Tuesday call happens on Tuesday. And when the stories are flowing, yours is still the voice that should ask about the wedding day. We wrote a whole post on what AI interviewers can and can't do, including the parts machines shouldn't touch.
From Her Question to Your Family's Inbox
Each story Rosa records becomes a short video: the storyteller's own voice telling it, watercolor illustrations, captions for the relatives who watch with the sound off, music. It arrives in the family's email. Fifty years from now, nobody will care what asked the question. They'll care that the answer is in her voice.
Stories of You calls your loved ones on the phone, records their stories, and turns them into watercolor-illustrated videos. No apps, no passwords — they just answer the phone.
Talk to Rosa Free →Try Her Yourself First
Don't take a founder's word for what his own product is like. The free trial exists so you can be the test subject: pick a question, have Rosa call your phone or record right in the browser, and watch the video that comes back about ten minutes later. No credit card. If the result doesn't move you, you're out ten minutes.
If it does, you'll know exactly what you're setting up for your parents, because you'll have sat in their chair.
Frequently Asked Questions
Who is Rosa from Stories of You?
Rosa is the voice interviewer at Stories of You. She calls storytellers on their regular phone, asks about their lives, listens, and asks follow-up questions. She is an AI, and she says so in her first sentence on every call. The recorded stories become short videos in the storyteller's voice, with watercolor illustrations, shared with the family.
Is Rosa a real person?
No, and she never pretends to be. Every call opens with Rosa saying she is a computer voice, not a person. We believe an AI that interviews your parents should tell them the truth in its first sentence, and we built that rule into Rosa before we built anything else.
Why does Rosa say she's a computer at the start of every call?
Three reasons. Consent: the storyteller agrees to be recorded knowing exactly what they're talking to, and that agreement is captured on the call itself. Trust: families should never discover the interviewer was software after the fact. And safety: because Rosa opens every call with the same sentence, families know what a real Stories of You call sounds like, which makes an impersonation easier to spot.
Does Rosa work on a landline or with hearing aids?
Rosa places ordinary phone calls, so a landline works exactly as well as a cell phone, and no smartphone, app, or internet is needed. Her name and voice were chosen for how clearly they carry over a phone line to older ears: short, crisp sounds that survive the connection. She is comfortable with pauses and never talks over someone who is still thinking.
How do I try Rosa?
Free, on yourself, before involving your parents: go to storiesofyou.ai, click Try It Free, pick a question, and either record with your microphone or have Rosa call your phone. Your story comes back as a finished video in about ten minutes. No credit card.
