I have been thinking about writing a book about my two years of experience working at a carwash. It will be mostly fiction and told from a limited 3rd person/ sometimes 1st person point of view. If I do write it the major symbols are going to be the sun and temperature. This may not seen important but after spending two winters wet and half frozen, temperature is very important to me so excuse me if I get poetic about it. So here would be the first page, feel free to tell me what needs to be improved.

A bright sunny day. The surrounding cars in the parking lot shimmered like molten lead beads- dropping into the horizon. Not a cloud in the sky undermined the suns power. The sun was omnipotent. Forever giving, forever donning the summer heat upon the concrete platform that held all of society in one place. Some saw the sun as a giant eye in the sky. What it saw was light, was real and was true. Others saw the sun as a gift, a faucet of power, it’s rays were the shower that fed the ever growing chain reaction most preferred to call life. Though it always had and for The dancing waves of heat radiated from the dark asphault parking lot, and from the bright, white hood of the car Alex was sitting in.
A bright sunny day. Opportunities come on day’s like this. Doors are opened on day’s like this. The only thing standing between you and the rest of forever- no not forever, who am I kidding. This is for the last link on the social chain, the arena of street cleaners, fast food kitchen cooks, hotel maids. The majority of the kids at school will never have to buy their own gas, let alone get a job. Stop thinking like that, now isn’t the time for negativity. Now is the time for action! This is a good job. You have no previous work experience, and have been denied for three job interviews and you are expecting to be able to get a job at the carwash! Get real. Get down to earth. Stop thinking! Breathe!-
He looked at the green, digital, clock on the dashboard of the car. Even it was hot. It’s dull green face glowed as if time and sun had worn at it’s inner workings. Like a piece of metal, having been dulled by the desert sand. It read 12:45. The interview started at 1. Though Alex knew that it was customary to be early to interviews he didn’t know what measure of time was customary. 12:40- he might catch the interviewer before he, she, or they were ready, 12:55- well within the assumed error in the calibration of clocks, so he may even be late by their time. He imagined himself arriving at the interview; “oh hey! I would think you were the job applicant by your polo shirt and slacks, but you are two minutes late, how may I help you?”, he would then sneer at his own sarcasm. “My phone actually says it’s one”, Alex would say, holding up the display of the device, innocently. “Just turned 1:01, so now you are wrong, and a smartass. Way to start an interview!” said the manager angrily.
It was now 12:46 and the heat was threatening Alex, after sitting in the ford explorer for ten minutes, with sweat. He looked at the heat waves radiating off of the hood of the white car. The reflections of yellow and black that came from the asphalt and parking markings writhed in a plasma that slipped off the front of the car then onto the grill. Alex was only getting hotter looking at this and so he opened the door a little to let some air in. He remembered his social security number and repeated it to himself to calm down. I am a Buddhist monk. The numbers were his namuste. I just need to go in and play the part. I am a good employee and person, it’s not that much of a stretch is it? Breathe… let’s go. Alex pushed the door open all the way and stepped out into the bright sun. Though it was hot out, the cool air made the car interior an oven in comparison. So, smiling, he locked the car twice with his remote key and began walking to the carwash.
The carwash bore resemblance to a manufacturing line. Two orange clad employees stood in lot beside the main building. They each would briefly talk to each car that drove in and wrote a number on the front of the windshield before sending the car around a 180 left hand curve that led to the gate of the carwash. On their way they would be sprayed by another carwasher with soap from a high pressure gun. From there all Alex could see was the car slipping into the steamy entrance of the carwash. From there the car would disappear then reappear a minute later out the exit end of the wash 200 feet away. The carwashers in orange worked extremely efficiently preparing each car for this magic trick. By the time Alex had finished his 2 minute walk from the parking lot of the nearby big-mart to the customer entrance of the carwash, four cars had gone through the entrance gate.
Alex grabbed the door’s handle and attempted to open the customer entrance but it was slippery, probably from all of the soap that had been sprayed throughout the day, and the handle slipped out of his hand and closed with a bang. Everyone was busy at their compartmentalized task and gave no attention to Alex. He was grateful for this as he grabbed the door again, this time stepping into the booth. It was pleasant enough inside. Most everything was covered in tile or stainless steel. It was strange to see that even the walls were covered in tile. It was as if Alex was standing in the bottom of a pool. The booth smelled strongly of citrus and soap and was loud too. A low hum reverberated from an open door behind the desk while a loud bell rang three times. The bell reminded Alex of an old telephone ring, but no one was in the booth to answer it so he stood and watched the carwashers from the large windows.
After about a minute a tall, dark, skinny man with kakhis and an orange collared shirt walked in from one of the two doors leading to the outside. Hi, my name is Jordan. You must be our interview, he said with a surprisingly friendly smile. Yea, hi, my name is Alex Warren. Hi Alex, nice to meet you, just come back around through around our employee entrance here and we’ll get started. Alex was relieved that he came at the proper time and even more relieved that his interviewer was nice. He stepped outside then turned around the corner of the small booth to grab the even wetter employee entrance. Lets do this.
I like the idea a lot (possibly as a byproduct of working at a gas station for a few years, and a car dealership in summers). I'd agree that you could do a lot with the sun and temperature.

I like the beginning, and the inner monologue about other jobs, no qualifications, etc, and the descriptions of the car wash like a magic trick... I think the description of the car wash might benefit from more of Alex's thoughts on it - does he look down on the people working in the car wash, it seeming to be his last-ditch job opportunity?

The inner debate on what time to go in, and the idea of the conversation that might ensure is great - I think that'll grab people's attention on the first page, it being a train of thought that pretty much everyone I know's been through.

Small quibble - I don't like the word "nice" in the last paragraph - it feels like too weak a word. I'd be inclined toward describing what the interviewer wasn't - say, he was relieved that the guy wasn't sarcastic or arguing over time, to relate back to a couple of paragraphs before.

Best of luck, I'd love to see more.