Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
he escaped the embrace of the Relaxo-Lounge and fled to a gloriously stationary sofa. Harper glared at the preposterous chair. "Franz!" he snarled. "That prize fathead! I've paid him a fortune in fees. I haven't slept for weeks. I can't eat anything but soup. My nerves are jangling like a four-alarm fire. And what does he prescribe? A blasted jiggling baby carriage! Why, I ought to send him the bill for it!" Completely outraged, he lay back on the couch and closed his eyes. last year that you'd have to ease up. Why do you have to try to run the whole world? It's the strain of all your business worries that's causing your trouble. He told you to take a long vacation or you'd crack up. Don't blame him for your own stubbornness." nervous tribulations were beginning to bore him, as well as interfere with the harmony of his home. it sort of floats you along the time-track in a pleasant daze, they tell me. And you can finish the cure at the hotel while looking it over. And not acknowledged. "Combine a rest-cure with business, eh?" Raising the magazine, he began reading the advertisement. And that was when he saw the line about the robots. "—the only hotel staffed entirely with robot servants—" "Robots!" he shrilled. "You mean they've developed the things to that lethargy with little sense of passing time and almost no memory of the interval. It seemed hardly more than a handful of hours until they were strapping was waking with lassitude still heavy in his veins. He struggled out of the hammock, made his way to the airlock, and found himself whisked by pneumatic tube directly into the lobby of the Emerald Star Hotel. Appreciatively he gazed around at the half-acre of moss-gray carpeting, duties tirelessly, promptly, and best of all, silently. Harper was enthralled. He'd staff his offices with them. Hang the expense! There'd be no more of that obnoxious personal friction and that was slowly driving him mad. Machines, he sighed to himself. Wonderful silent machines! For a woman was arguing stridently with the desk clerk who, poor man, was a high strung fellow human instead of a robot. Harper watched him shrinking and turning pale lavender in the stress of the argument. No one within the confines of the huge lobby could have helped hearing. The clerk flinched visibly. "Now, Mrs. Jacobsen," he soothed. "You know the hotel is staffed entirely with robots. They're much more expensive, really, than human employees, but so much more efficient, you know. Admit it, they give excellent service, don't they, now?" Toothily he stepped to the desk beside her and peremptorily rapped for the clerk. normal human trait." Leaving her temporarily quashed, he beckoned authoritatively to the clerk. "I've just arrived and want to get settled. I'm here merely for a rest-cure, no treatments. You can assign my quarters before continuing your—ah—discussion with the lady." The clerk sputtered. Mrs. Jacobsen sputtered. But not for nothing was The clerk jumped. He dropped Harper's card and had to stoop for it. had certainly been right, he reflected. Yes sir, Scrib had rung the bell, and he wasn't the man to forget it. With a wonderful sense of well-being he returned to his room and prepared to relax. bleakly. As soon as the door opened he regretted his invitation, for he's about out of business." Harper sat up as if he'd been needled. He opened his mouth to speak. Dejectedly Ellis returned to his own room. Again he lifted the receiver of the room phone but as usual a robot voice answered sweetly, mechanically, and meaninglessly. He hung up and went miserably to bed. There was something nagging at Harper's mind. Something he should do. Something that concerned robots. But he was too exhausted to think it out. For five days now his pet robots had put him through an ordeal that made him flinch every time he thought about it. Which wasn't often, since he was almost past thinking. They plunked him into stinking mud-baths and held him there until he was well-done to the bone, he gagged. They brought him weird concoctions to eat and drink and then stood over him until he consumed them. They purged and massaged and exercised him. Whenever they let him alone, he simply collapsed into bed and slept. There was nothing else to do anyway. They'd taken his clothes and the phone, after an announcement that he would have no more service for two weeks, gave him nothing but a busy signal. "Persecution, that's what it is!" he moaned desperately. And he turned his back to the mirror, which showed him that he was beginning to look flesh-colored instead of the parchment yellow to which he had become accustomed. He closed his mind to the fact that he was sleeping for hours on end like the proverbial baby, and that he was getting such an appetite that he could almost relish even that detestable mush they sent him for breakfast. He was determined to be furious. As soon as he could wake up enough to be. After I signed up for the works and paid 'em in advance! And I can't find any way out of this section. The other two rooms are empty and the that assinine clerk was registering me. I'll bet that clerk got rattled and gave me the wrong key. I'll bet you're supposed to have this room I'm desperate! I'm going to see the manager of this madhouse if I have to go down dressed in a sheet. Your clothes would be better than that." okay with me, but just don't lose something when you're down there in that fancy lobby." Harper looked at his watch. "Time to go. Relax, old man. The robots will be along any minute now. If you're the only man in the room, I'm suave lobby. He was a blot on its rich beauty, a grotesque enigma that rooted the elevator, he had laid a course for the desk which loomed like an island in a moss-gray lake, and now he strode manfully toward it, ignoring the The clerk was the first to recover from the collective stupor. "Stop it!" begged the clerk. "You'll wreck the system! We'll never get it straight again! Stop it!" With one last appalled glare at the madman, the clerk picked up an speech. Opening the inconspicuous door, he waved Harper inside and returned doggedly to his desk, where he began to pick up things and at the same time phrase his resignation in his mind. Brushing aside the startled secretary in the outer cubicle, Harper Because that assinine clerk of yours put me in the wrong room and those sheet of writing-paper left in this idiot's retreat!" Hayes, the manager, blanched. Then he began to mottle in an apoplectic pattern. And suddenly with a gusty sigh, he collapsed into his chair. With a shaking hand he mopped his forehead. " My at the rate our guest list is declining. I'm ready to hand in my resignation." Again he sighed. "The trouble," he explained, "is that those fool treatment he was accustomed to! Haughtily he squared his bony shoulders inside the immense jacket and stepped into the elevator. He was ready Hagerty's Enzymes and staffed the plant with the hotel's robots. Got both of 'em dirt cheap. Both concerns going bankrupt because they didn't have sense enough to swap their workers. Feel I owe you a bit

<question>:
Why did the clerk start mentally preparing his resignation?

<options>:
A He had been hired for another job.
B The robot security guards had lost control.
C He would be blamed for the mess Harper created during his outburst.
D He was tired of working at the hotel.

<answer>:

C