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

<passage>:
Management into the strike for the sole purpose of cutting current dividends and selling stock to themselves cheaply. The rumors grew easier and easier to believe. The workers came Vice President-in-Charge-of-Production of the Robling Titanium Corporation. What could they do to him, really? He had rehearsed worked well together. I consider you a good friend of mine. You've got to get things under control. Tell the men we're making progress. Tell them Management is beginning to weaken from its original stand. Tell them we expect to have reports. The promotion-draw reports. The royalty reports. The anticipated dividend reports. Walter shook his head wearily. The shop steward was a goad, annoying, perhaps even infuriating, within reason. Perhaps we can even arrange for better company houses." Walter Towne stifled a yawn. "Perhaps you didn't understand us. The men are agitating for a meeting of the board of directors. We want to be at that meeting. That's the only thing sick— Bailey was not sick. The administrative offices were humming with frantic activity as Walter glanced down the rows put it through at the next executive conference, give you—" "The board meeting," Walter said gently. "That'll be enough for us." The union boss swore and slammed his fist on the desk. so large—the men will have to get used to that. That's it, we'll Walter gulped. "Yes, sir. Just four minutes, this time, sir. administration building. Since every member of the union owned stock in the company, every member had the right to vote for members of the board of directors. But in the early days of the switchover, the idea of a board of directors smacked the men. The solution had been simple, if a trifle ungainly. Everyone who owned stock in Robling Titanium was automatically a member of the board of directors, with Torkleson Walter sighed and shuffled back to his desk. Oh, well. It could have been worse. They might have fired him like poor Cartwright last month. He'd just Walter jumped a foot. Bailey was putting down the visiphone receiver. His grin spread unpleasantly from ear to ear. "What have you been doing lately? Sabotaging the production Walter rose slowly from his seat. This was it, then. Torkleson Walter gave a sharp nod to the side of the stage. Abruptly jaws sagging, eyes wide, hardly believing their ears. In the Walter could almost remember those days with Robling, before the switchover, before that black day when the exchange of ten little shares of stock had thrown the Robling instant of silence as the factory whistle died away, Walter grabbed the microphone. "You want the code word to start the machines again? I'll give it to you before I sit down!" Amalgamated Locals Daniel P. Torkleson, Secretary The secretary flipped down the desk switch and eyed Walter Walter pushed through the door into the long, handsome here." The man behind the desk hoisted his three hundred well-dressed pounds and glared at Walter from under flagrant a sheaf of papers down on the desk. "Just what do you think you're doing with this company, Towne?" Walter swallowed. "I'm production manager of the corporation." "And just what does the production manager do all day?" Walter reddened. "He organizes the work of the plant, establishes production lines, works with Promotion and Sales, integrates Research and Development, operates the planning Walter Towne was talking their language. "You think that since you own the company, times have changed. Well, have they? Are you any better off than you Walter spread his hands. "I do my best. I've been doing it for thirty years. I should know what I'm doing." " asked for a raise last year!" Torkleson's voice was dangerous. "And you think you do a pretty good job of it, eh? Even and richer since the switchover. Throw him out, and you too machines." with the newly elected board of directors, things will be impossible. Big orders canceled. The worst reports in seven years, and you say you know your job!" "I've been doing everything I could," Walter snapped. "Of course the reports are bad, they couldn't help but be. We Walter Towne chuckled. "Doesn't it? I don't know. Everything's haven't met a production schedule in over two years. No plant they come in when they please, and leave when they please, and spend half their time changing and the other half on Koffee-Kup. No company could survive this. But that's only half of it—" Walter searched through the reports frantically. his fist down on the desk. "We should just turn the company to pay dividends." "But they're cutting their own throats," Walter wailed. "You can't build a company and make it grow the way I've been forced to run it." come in. That's your job. My job is to report a dividend every six months to the men who own the stock, the men working on the production lines." Walter nodded bitterly. "And every year the dividend has to be higher than the last, or you and your fat friends are likely to be thrown out of your jobs—right? No more steaks Walter felt the fight go out of him like a dying wind. He Back in his cubbyhole downstairs, Walter stared hopelessly later. They all knew it—Hendricks of Promotion, Pendleton of Sales, the whole managerial staff. It was wrong, all the way down the line. Walter had fought it tooth and nail since the day Torkleson had installed the moose heads in Walter's old office, and moved him down to the cubbyhole, under Bailey's watchful eye. He had argued, and battled, and pleaded, and lost. He had watched the company striking against its own labor. It—it isn't done. Oh, Walter nodded. "Well, we couldn't very well lock the men running the business the machines figure production quotas, organize blueprints, prepare distribution lists, test promotion schemes. It would take an office full of managerial experts to handle even a single phase of the work without the machines." anything, Walter? They wouldn't be watching the house?" Union Stockholders. All he'd need to do is ask for managers, and a dozen companies would throw them to him on loan. They'd be able to figure out the machine system and take over without losing a day." "Not quite." Walter was grinning. "That's why I spoke of "For what?" asked the lawyer. Walter turned on him sharply. "For new contracts. Contracts to let us manage the company the way it should be managed. If they won't do it, they won't get another Titanium The others nodded. Walter rubbed his hands together. "All MANAGEMENT SABOTAGES ROBLING MACHINES OFFICE STRIKERS THREATEN LABOR ECONOMY ROBLING LOCK-IN CREATES PANDEMONIUM processes." Ben Starkey, President of the Board of American Steel, expressed "shock and regret" the Amalgamated could make money. And what stock more logical to buy than the changes grew more radical. Walter Towne remembered those stormy days well. The gradual undercutting of the managerial salaries, the tightening up of inter-union collusion to establish the infamous White list of Recalcitrant Managers. The shift from hourly wage to annual salary for the factory workers, and the change to the machinery began tying itself in knots, and the strikers still struck. By the fifth day there was a more serious note. "You're going to have to appear, Walter. We can't dodge Torkleson's getting desperate. The workers are putting pressure on him." Walter grinned. "Then Pendleton is doing a good job of "We'll see," said Walter. "What time tomorrow?" sabotage of the company's machines, conspiring to destroy the livelihood of ten thousand workers. Your Honor, we are preparing briefs to prove further that these men have formed a

<question>:
How will Walter change the company?

<options>:
A Walter will give management total control again.
B Walter will bankrupt the company.
C Walter will be just like Torkleson.
D Walter will work with management and the workers to make the company profitable.

<answer>:

D