What do you think of my writing?

Question

This is one of the intros I have written for the novel I am working on. I know it's a tad bit long, but please let me know what you think about it. Thanks!

“Thank you for calling Bookmart customer service. How may I offer you superior assistance this evening?” I said as I squeezed the stress ball with the Bookmart logo on the side. After taking close to eighty phone calls since seven a.m., I was ecstatic that this would be my last of the night. My vocal cords needed a break and my back could use a good stretch.
My eyes glanced at the empty cubicle on my left. The plain gray walls of the enclosed area were depressing. Who in their right mind would want to stare at that all day long? People that had no choice and my name was on the top of that list. I could barely afford my one bedroom apartment with the measly pay I had coming in every two weeks. Most apartments in downtown Nashville are on the pricier side, but I negotiated with my landlord until I was blue in the face to get the rent low enough where I could manage it.
The only person that I enjoy communicating with at this god-forsaken place went home at six and I’ve had to endure four entire hours of pure hell by my lonesome. Customer service wasn’t my ideal choice for a job, but sometimes you have to take what you can get and Bookmart was the only place hiring since the economy tanked.
I’ll gladly admit that my social skills aren’t what they should be, but I never had a reason to be nice to anyone. I had a life altering experience when I was young and even though it has been seventeen years since my parents were murdered, I still haven’t recovered.
“I didn’t receive my coupons in the mail this week,” an old woman that must have been at least eighty said on the other line. I rolled my eyes.
“Ma’am, unfortunately, we no longer send coupons via the post office. We now utilize email to send out our coupons,” I said in a bored tone. Customer service becomes repetitive after a while so hearing the same thing numerous times a day is normal. This would be the tenth customer today with the exact same issue.
“Well, when did you start doing that?” She asked irritated.
When would the insanity end? I was tired of explaining to old people that it was no longer the 1930’s. The world has moved away from Snell mail and towards email. We now have the technology to make life at least a tad bit easier. Why can they not comprehend that?
“We started it in the twenty-first century,” I replied to the old woman sarcastically just as my supervisor walked by my cubicle. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head to let me know that she was not happy with my attempt at humor. Who cares if I was being rude? It was ten o’clock at night. On top of that, the old bag should be asleep at this time and not calling about coupons. I had the right to be irritable.
“I apologize that we are unable to mail your coupons, but I would be happy to enter your email address into our system so you can receive them next week.” I already knew the woman didn’t have an email address because not many people above sixty have one and this woman was probably bordering on ancient.
“I don’t have one of those and I’m not going to get one just for your company.” I nodded my head silently confirming my assumption.
“I’m sorry about that. Is there anything else I can help you with this evening?” I asked with a fake smile. Every cubicle had a plain white, laminated sheet of paper that said, “Smile, Smile, Smile!” which forced us to remember to be polite. The one on my desk was a little more colorful than most. It had stickers of the Happy Bunny making obscene gestures towards the words.
She grunted on the other end of the phone which gave me the notion that she was done being nice. I was so not going to listen to an old bat ramble all night about how ludicrous our policies were. “Well, thank you for calling.” Then I hung up.
Thank whoever was in heaven above because it was finally time for me to go home. My back was aching, my fingers were tired from typing all day and I had to do it all over again tomorrow. I stood to stretch my muscles and to get the hell out of dodge. Taking the longest strides my five foot five legs would allow, I made my way past the break room to the hall where I clocked out. I was the only person working until ten so I didn’t have to avoid speaking to people while waiting in line to clock out.
On the way to the door, my supervisor waved a hand motioning for me to come over to her desk, no doubt for a lecture about my attitude towards customers. Luckily I had already punched my card and said, “I’m off the clock and don’t have time to stick around. Maybe we can talk tomorrow.” She sputtered, but could not say a word as I rushed past her.
The back door beeped throughout the building as I exited into the flower scented night air. Yellow roses lined the sidewalk that led to the employee parking lot. Every morning I walk into the red brick building, they bring a smile

Answer 1

Your beginning is original for certain and well written. My only criticism would be that where you write, for instance, People that... you might more correctly write People who. The word that is for things while who is for people. To the majority of readers, however, that point would be irrelevant; I just happen to have studied English grammar so tend to notice such discrepancies. Otherwise, I really am intrigued by your story as you've revealed it here and would like to read more of it. Have you planned your plot? If so, definitely continue to write it! I do want to know what is to happen next!

Answer 2

Listen to a crap load of track. Since the guitar is surely very simular to a piano, I uncover being attentive to many classical portions, speradically places some thing into my head. One thing more, I in most cases begin out gambling a riff highly sluggish. I am speakme like 15 to twenty BPM. This offers me an certain suppose for what I am gambling from the begin, being competent to take away out of place notes, and even an complete scale. Then at the same time escalading the pace extra matters come to gentle. So in my difficult to understand method the begin to a riff is also the equal or complete oposite from the customary while 20 BPM becomes two hundred BPM

Answer 3

Ok. A little boring. Bookmart is lame. Try ABC Books. Or Buy-It Booksellers.

Answer 4

You write well, but the story itself offers nothing in the way of the main conflict- unless its about coupons.

Answer 5

it's pretty good, but my style of writing/reading is fantasy

but i can see ur very good at writing conversations that's what i suck at but why did you chose nashville istead of a larger city like new york?

Answer 6

Hey You're good!

It's good so far!

Answer 7

This is really good :)