Each randomly assigned phone call lasts no more than a minute, and content can range from a wake-up song to poems, music or simple conversation. Photo / 123RF
There are few times more sacred than the snug tranquillity of early(ish) morning, before you have to lurch from under the covers into the cold, harsh day. The world is peaceful then: the burble of a shower running next door, maybe the clink of a teaspoon on a cup, the rustle of the duvet as you snuggle still deeper. Eyes shut, you imagine you could stay in that soporific state, keeping the day ahead at bay for just five more minutes... And then the alarm goes off.
The modern alarm has come a long way since the tinny wind-up twin bell, invented in the 18th century. Sleepers can now be gently roused from their slumber by their favourite radio station, the ambient sound of tweeting birds, or even an ever brightening light that mimics the rising of the sun. With the advent of digital LED clocks, wearable devices and, of course, the alarms on our mobile phones, there's now no excuse for sleeping in. But even modern-day tech hasn't made it any easier to get out of bed.
Wakie aims to change all that. The new app, the brainchild of an Armenian developer, and recently launched for iPhone and Android, replaces the generic alarm clock with a friendly wake-up call from a stranger somewhere around the globe. Users simply sign up, submit their phone number and register as either a "Sleepy" or a "Wakie" - depending on whether they want to do the waking or be woken up. They then set an "alarm" for the time they want to get out of bed and, within five minutes either side of the time requested, a stranger - who may be on the other side of the world, where it is daytime - will call with a morning message.
Each randomly assigned phone call lasts no more than a minute, and content can range from a wake-up song to poems, music or simple conversation. The service is free and you don't need an internet connection to use it; if no "Wakie" is available to wake you up, the site's automated robot will do it on their behalf. There are safeguards, too, so users need not worry about giving out personal details: all calls are made anonymously (the caller will never see your number, nor you theirs), and if you want to report anything inappropriate, there's an easy-to-use feedback form. Or you can always just hang up.
Bizarre as it sounds, Wakie already has two million users in the UK, Ireland, US, Canada, Hong Kong and Singapore. A trial version launched in Moscow in 2011, but the full app took three years to complete - and now has over US$3 million in funding from venture capital firms and investors. To date, 40 million wake-up calls have been made. It's free to download, for now, but the creators are planning a host of paid-for premium options further down the line.
The premise is simple: "Most people hate alarm clocks," says co-founder Hrachik Adjamian. "Our mission is to brighten people's mornings. We want to make them happy and help them start their day with a smile. People get lots of positive emotions while talking to a stranger." He explains that when he started his first business, aged 16, he was working up to 20 hours a day, and constantly pressing snooze on his alarm clock in the morning. "The only thing that could really wake me up was a call from an unknown phone number. I knew it could be a new client for my business and I had to answer. After a small talk with a stranger, I couldn't go back to sleep."
I am capable of few things at that time of day: sleepwalking my way into the shower, pulling on some clothes, running a brush through my hair (if I'm lucky). Conversation is not one of them. I struggle to mumble two words to my other half in the morning; so making chit-chat on the phone sounds like hell. Reviews of Wakie, however, have been broadly positive - apart from a few comments by female users, who note that most of the callers seem to be male.
So could it really work? Here's how my week of being woken up by strangers panned out...
I set my first Wakie alarm for 8am. Doubtful that it would work, I set a backup on my iPhone - but the app beeped into action at 7.57am. I answered a call from a friendly British man in Los Angeles. "Good morning!" he trilled. "I've just put the kettle on, would you like a cuppa?" I mumbled a response, oddly mortified to be speaking to a strange man from my bed. "I'll pour it down the phone, shall I?" he laughed. I laughed. I didn't know what else to say, and there was an awkward silence. "Well, you have a good day!" he said, and our 60 seconds were up.
Not so good this morning. I set Wakie to call me at 8am, but woke half an hour late to a chirpy notification on my phone, reading: "Hi Sleepy. You are in such a deep sleep that even Wakey couldn't get you out of bed. Have a great day!" Needless to say, I didn't. Worth noting that the app doesn't work like an iPhone alarm. If your mobile isn't on loud, you won't hear a thing.
A spooky morning. I got a wake-up call, this time at 7am, but there was no sound; just a repetitive tapping noise. Too odd to bear thinking about. I hung up, and felt unsettled for the rest of the day.
My first musical experience. I was awoken by "John" in Hong Kong, singing a terrible (yet very passionate) karaoke version of the song Friday by American artist Rebecca Black. Slightly odd, as it was a Saturday, but delightful none the less. This one made me smile.
Today's call was made from a car, where there was heavy rock music blasting down the phone. I could hear a man's voice in the background - I think it was Irish - but couldn't make out what he was saying. Far too early in the morning for so much noise. Wakie left me with a pounding headache.
"Get your butt out of bed!" screamed the voice on the other end of the line. Or, rather, voices - there must have been 10 people yelling down the phone this morning. Jarring, but it certainly woke me up.
This one caught me completely unawares. A caller from Michigan - yet another man - started off friendly enough, telling me about the weather where he was. Then, out of nowhere, things got decidedly creepy - and he started saying things I really didn't want to hear. Though I was safely in my own home, I felt taken advantage of: speaking to this lewd stranger on the phone suddenly seemed intimate and unpleasant. I couldn't hang up fast enough.
My take on Wakie?
It's certainly a novelty, but the app's basic function - getting me out of bed - was patchy. No doubt it will appeal to young, social-media luvvies eager to try the latest tech fad - but not me. I started off open-minded, thinking it could be a fun way to interact with a global community of lively, engaging strangers. I ended up feeling like a dodgy answering service for strange, leery men.
"We get positive feedback from users," insists Adjamian, when I ask how he stops the service being abused.
"We work hard on creating a community of kind and friendly people. If someone violates our rules, you can report them and they will be banned. We did some analytics and found that 99.7 per cent of calls are fine. This is very important for us because people are really sensitive when they wake up."
That, I can agree with. As the author William Feather once said: "Early morning cheerfulness can be extremely obnoxious." And, it turns out, more than a little bit weird.
For now, I'll stick to silence - and my good old-fashioned wind-up alarm.