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

<passage>:
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "Feetch!" grated Ogden Piltdon, president of the Piltdon Opener Company, slamming the drafting board with his hairy fist, "I want results!" Heads lifted over boards. Kalvin Feetch shrunk visibly. Universal does it in four." "But Mr. Piltdon—" can in eight point nine without chimes. Is this what I'm paying you for?" In four months I want a new can-opener that will be faster, lighter, stronger, flashier and more musical than any other on the market. I "Excuses," sneered Mr. Piltdon. "Your staff is more than adequate. I will not allow you to throw out my money. Four months, Feetch, no more!" Piltdon trudged out of the room, leaving behind him an had to dream at his board, investigate, search, build, test, compare, discard. He had always wanted to devote all his time to research, but Piltdon Opener had not given him that opportunity. Twenty-five years! thought Feetch. Twenty-five years of close supervision, dead-lines, production headaches, inadequate facilities and assistance. What had happened, to the proud dream he once had, the dream of exploring develop? Ah, well, thought Feetch straightening his thin shoulders, he had managed somehow to design a few good things during his twenty-five What now? He had to hang on to his job. Technical work was scarce. technicians than industry could absorb. He was too old to compete in the employment market. He couldn't afford to lose any money. Jenny wasn't well. How to meet this four month dead-line? He would get right on it himself, of course Hanson—good man—could work with him. He shook his can-opener lines. Departures, such as the thermal or motor-driven types, would be too expensive for mass production." Three new models and a group of cans were waiting for them on the Twenty-five years of your life you put in with Piltdon, and he'd fire you just like that if you don't do the impossible. The Piltdon Company is built upon your designs and you get handed this deal!" "Well, well," said Feetch. "I drew my pay every week so I suppose I two in work. Best performance, four point four, but model otherwise unsatisfactory." "Hello," said Feetch as an aproned machinist entered carrying a rather disconcerting. "Dear, dear," said Feetch, regarding the piles of food on the bench. "There must be some explanation. I designed this opener with sixteen Close, thought Feetch, wearily. It had been a man-killing job, and it had been close, but he'd made it. Beat the time limit by a half-day. The first tentative shipments of Piltdon Super-Openers had gone to distributors along the Eastern seaboard. The first advertisements blazed in selected media. The first reorders came back, and then: "It's a sell-out!" crowed Piltdon, waving a sheaf of telegrams. "Step up production! Let 'er rip!" The Super-Openers rolled over the country. In a remarkably short time they appeared in millions of kitchens from coast-to-coast. Sales climbed to hundreds of thousands per day. Piltdon Opener went into peak production in three shifts, but was still unable to keep up with plants were planned. Long lines waited in front of houseware stores. Department stores, lucky enough to have Super-Openers on hand, limited sales to one to a customer. Piltdon cancelled his advertising program. Newspapers, magazines, radio, television and word-of-mouth spread the universities and independent investigators began to look into this new any departure from its exact specifications nullified the effect. Piltdon, genial these days with success and acclaim, roared at Feetch: "I'm putting you in for a raise. Yes sir! To reward you for assisting me with my invention I'm raising your pay two hundred dollars a year. That's almost four dollars a week, man." "Thank you, Mr. Piltdon." And still, thought Feetch wryly, he received no recognition. His name did not even appear on the patent. Well, It had been difficult, working alone and buying his own equipment. The oscillator and ultra microwave tracking unit had been particularly expensive. He was a fool, he supposed, to try independent research when so many huge scientific organizations were working on it. But he could When he finally found the answer, it was too late. The Borenchuck incident was only hours away. "Sir, I never make careless claims." "That's true," said Piltdon. His eyes grew dreamy. "It can be done," he mused. "The New Type Super-Opener. Free exchanges for the old. Cash guarantee that empty cans will never bother you. Take a licking at first, but then monopolize the market. All right, Feetch, I'll for rectifying your blunder. Fine, fine. We'll work it out. Hop on production, at once, Feetch." Feetch felt himself sag inwardly. "Mr. Piltdon," he said. "I'm asking "Damn it, no!" roared Piltdon. "How many times must I tell you? You got your job back, didn't you?" The prospect of long years of heavy production schedules, restricted engineering and tight supervision suddenly made Kalvin Feetch feel very tired. Research, he thought. Development. What he had always wanted. Over the years he had waited, thinking that there would be opportunities later. But now he was growing older, and he felt that there might not be a later. Somehow he would manage to get along. Perhaps someone would give him a job working in the new field he had pioneered. With a sense of relief he realized that he had made his the door. Money, Feetch decided after a while, was a good thing to have. His supply was running pretty low. He was not having any luck finding to hire the man it regarded as responsible for the whole thing. "Feetch," the personnel man would read. "Kalvin Feetch." Then, looking up, "Not the Kalvin Feetch who—" "I am sorry, but—" He did no better with research organizations. Typical was a letter from the Van Terrel Foundation: "—cannot accept your application not desirable in a member of our organization—former employer states the decision was yours entirely. Unfavorable reference—" Piltdon, Feetch thought, feeling a strange sensation deep within his Of course, if he were to agree to reveal his latest discoveries to a grab. The anger began to mount. But he was beginning to need money desperately. Jenny wasn't getting any better and medical bills were running high. not." "I'll go up another ten dollars," grated the little Piltdon image. "Do you realize, man, this is the fourteenth raise I've offered you? A total increase of one hundred and twenty-six dollars? Be sensible, Feetch. I know you can't find work anywhere else." "Thanks to you. Mr. Piltdon, I wouldn't work for you if—" office, the salesmen on the road. All, all unemployed because of you. Think of that, Feetch." Feetch blinked. This had not occurred to him. their jobs? Frowning, he dialed Hanson's number. figured the Super-Opener can solve this." Feetch hung up. A glow of anger that had been building up in his chest grew warmer. He began pacing the floor. How he hated to do it. Think, all." He hung up. In the same grim mood the following morning, he placed a few more calls. In the same mood that afternoon he stood in the middle of his "Fifty-one percent," said Feetch firmly. "Don't bother with any counterproposals or the interview is at an end." "Gentlemen!" squawked Piltdon, "I appeal to you—" "Stop bluffing," said Feetch coldly. "There's no other way out for you. Otherwise you're ruined. Here, sign this agreement."

<question>:
When applying for new jobs, Kalvin found that…

<options>:
A Companies did not approve of what they heard about his previous work.
B Companies did not have open positions.
C Piltdon gave him a positive reference.
D He had multiple offers.

<answer>:

A