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

<passage>:
mere serene than a man who loves his work—but what happens when it loves him back? Keep your nerve, Peter Manners told himself it's only a job. But nerve has to rest on a sturdier foundation than cash reserves just above zero and eviction if he came away from this interview still unemployed. Clay, at the Association of Professional Engineers, who had set up the appointment, hadn't eased Peter's nervousness by admitting, "I don't know what in hell he's looking for. He's turned down every man we've sent him." The interview was at three. Fifteen minutes to go. Coming early would betray overeagerness. Peter stood in front of the Lex Industries plant and studied it to kill time. Plain, featureless concrete walls, not as they should have been for a plant this size. Something else was wrong. Peter looked for minutes before he found out employees' entrance was on the third side. It wasn't. Staring back at the last blank wall, Peter suddenly remembered the time He nodded, then realized he had to answer aloud if there was a "Thanks," Peter said, and a door at one side of the anteroom swung open for him. He went through it with his composure slipping still further from his "Don't stand out there like a jackass! Either come in or go away!" interview—and it's not your fault—this whole setup is geared to "Mr. Lexington?" he said. "I'm Peter Manners. The Association—" "Sit down," said the man at the desk. "Let's look you over." He was a huge man behind an even huger desk. Peter took a chair in front of the desk and let himself be inspected. It wasn't comfortable. He did some looking over of his own to ease the tension. But then Peter came out of his momentary flinch, and there was an age to the man, about 65, and he saw the muscles had turned to fat, the "What can you do?" asked Lexington abruptly. Peter started, opened his mouth to answer, closed it again. He'd been jolted too often in too short a time to be stampeded into blurting a reply that would cost him this job. "Good," said Lexington. "Only a fool would try to answer that. Do you have any knowledge of medicine?" "Not enough to matter," Peter said, stung by the compliment. "I don't mean how to bandage a cut or splint a broken arm. I mean "I'm applying for a job as engineer." "I know. Are you interested in the basics of how we live?" Peter looked for a hidden trap, found none. "Of course. Isn't everyone?" out of you." "Thanks," said Peter, and waited for the next fast ball. "How long have you been out of school?" "Only two years. But you knew that from the Association—" "No practical experience to speak of?" "Some," said Peter, stung again, this time not by a compliment. "After Peter blinked. "Sir?" "Stockpiled you! How much did they pay you?" "Not very much, but we were getting the training instead of wages." "I worked my way through," said Peter stiffly. "If you'd stayed with them five years, do you think you'd be able to get a job with someone else?" Peter considered his answer carefully. Every man the Association had sent had been turned away. That meant bluffs didn't work. Neither, he'd seen for himself, did allowing himself to be intimidated. any wage you'd stand for, and they'd have an indentured worker with a degree—but not the price tag. You see that now?" It made Peter feel he had been suckered, but he had decided to play basis wasn't enough, so I went elsewhere—" "With your head full of this nonsense about a shortage of engineers." Peter swallowed. "I thought it would be easier to get a job than it has been, yes." "They start the talk about a shortage and then they keep it going. Why? to, or their costs get out of line and they can't compete. What's the solution?" "I don't know," Peter said. Lexington leaned back. "That's quite a lot of admissions you've made. What makes you think you're qualified for the job I'm offering?" "You said you wanted an engineer." "And I've just proved you're less of an engineer than when you left school. I have, haven't I?" "All right, you have," Peter said angrily. "And now you're wondering why I don't get somebody fresh out of school. Right?" Peter straightened up and met the old man's challenging gaze. "That and whether you're giving me a hard time just for the hell of it." "Well, am I?" Lexington demanded. Peter had the startling feeling that Lexington was rooting for him! "No, you're not." "Then what am I after?" "Suppose you tell me." Association on you counted, of course, but only if you were teachable. I think you are. Am I right?" "At least I can face knowing how much I don't know," said Peter, "if that answers the question." "It does. Partly. What did you notice about this plant?" "Come on," said Lexington, getting massively to his feet. "I'll show you." The office door opened, and Peter found himself being led down the antiseptic corridor to another door which had opened, giving access to to attend to mysterious duties of their own. Peter tore his eyes away from them in time to see the look of frustrated embarrassment that crossed Lexington's face, only to be replaced by one of anger. He said nothing, however, and led Peter to Peter followed numbly as Lexington led him through a maze of machines, each one seemingly intent on cutting, bending, welding, grinding or carrying some bit of metal, or just standing idle, waiting for "Then all you do is read the incoming mail and maintain the machinery?" asked Peter, trying to shake off the feeling of open amazement that had engulfed him. "I don't even do those things, except for a few letters that come in every week that—it doesn't want to deal with by itself." The shock of what he had just seen was showing plainly on Peter's face when they walked back into Lexington's office and sat down. Lexington looked at him for quite a while without saying anything, his face sagging and pale. Peter didn't trust himself to speak, and let the He leaned back in his chair and began to talk in a low voice completely electrical signals, developed equipment to scan the units cyclically, numbers into the control console, do the billing, and collect the money." "What happened to your original company?" Peter asked. Lexington smiled. "Well, automated as it was, it couldn't compete with this plant. It gave me great pleasure, three years after this one "I—I don't understand," stammered Peter. "Simple! Whenever I was pleased that things were going smoothly, I explanation. "This kicker button," Peter said tentatively, "it's like the pleasure center in an animal's brain, isn't it?" When Lexington beamed, Peter felt a surge of relief. Talking with this silently into the room. Stopping in front of Peter, it waited until he had taken a small plate laden with two or three cakes off its surface. Then the soft, evenly modulated voice he had heard before asked, "How time, the gold leaf comes off!" Peter searched for a comment, found none that fitted this odd outburst, so he kept silent. machine was still learning from me, and I was afraid that any tantrums I threw might be imitated." "It sounds pretty awkward," Peter put in. "You don't know the half of it! As time went on, I had less and less to and to make it still better, I'd find that for months I had virtually nothing to do." "It sounds wonderful, sir," said Peter, feeling dazzled. "It was, in a way. I remember one day I was especially pleased with "The answer came back in the jargon it had learned from letters it had

<question>:
What was the purpose of the interview questions?

<options>:
A To see if Peter was trainable
B To give Peter a hard time for no reason
C To see what Peter knew about the work
D To find out about Peter's past job experience

<answer>:

A