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

<passage>:
"Feetch!" grated Ogden Piltdon, president of the Piltdon Opener "As chief engineer you're not carrying the ball," Piltdon went on savagely. "The Piltdon Can-Opener is trailing the competition. Advertising and Sales are breaking their necks. It's Engineering that's missing the boat!" "But Mr. Piltdon," remonstrated Feetch unsteadily under his employer's glare, "don't you remember? I tried to...." "For two years there hasn't been one lousy improvement in the Piltdon Can-Opener!" roared Mr. Piltdon. "Look at our competitors. The Universal does it in four." "But Mr. Piltdon—" "The Minerva Mighty Midget does it in four point two two and plays Home Sweet Home in chimes. Our own Piltdon opener barely manages to open a can in eight point nine without chimes. Is this what I'm paying you for?" Feetch adjusted his spectacles with shaking hands. "But Mr. Piltdon, "Dignity," pronounced Piltdon, "is for museums. Four months, Feetch! up with production and maintenance. If you would let me put on a few draftsmen and...." "Excuses," sneered Mr. Piltdon. "Your staff is more than adequate. managed somehow to design a few good things during his twenty-five years with Piltdon. That was some satisfaction. What now? He had to hang on to his job. Technical work was scarce. Hanson's eyes were upon him. "Chief," he said, "it's a rotten shame. 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 have no complaints. Although," a wistful note crept into his voice "I would have liked a little recognition. Piltdon is a household word, but who has heard of Feetch? Well,"—Feetch blew his nose—"how do we stand, Hanson?" "Hello," said Feetch as an aproned machinist entered carrying a learn a lot more." "But Chief, your job." "I'll risk that. Not a word to Piltdon." Automatic disposal! Wait until Advertising and Sales get hold of this! We'll throttle our competitors! The Piltdon Super-Opener we'll call it." "Mr. Piltdon—" said Feetch shakily. Piltdon stared at his chief engineer sharply. "What's the matter, Feetch? The thing can be duplicated, can't it?" "Yes, sir. I've just finished checking that. But I'm in the midst of "Feetch," bit out Piltdon, his face growing hard. "Stow this hooey. I 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 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 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, well, that was the way it went. He must find his satisfaction in his work. And it had been interesting lately, the work he had been doing nights at home investigating what had been named the Piltdon Effect. It had been difficult, working alone and buying his own equipment. The oscillator and ultra microwave tracking unit had been particularly "Are you still worrying about that?" Piltdon roared jovially. "Leave that to the long-hairs. We're making money, that's all that counts, eh Feetch?" the Piltdon Super-Opener. Statisticians and mathematicians calculated the mean rate of can Piltdon's huge desk. "No!" yelled Piltdon at Feetch's face which was inches away. "No, I——What did you say?" "Forever, Feetch?" "Yes sir." Klunk! Klunk! "You're positive, Feetch?" Piltdon's eyes glared into Feetch's. "Sir, I never make careless claims." "That's true," said Piltdon. His eyes grew dreamy. "It can be done," 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 only one favor. Let me work full time on research and development, especially on the Piltdon effect. Hire a couple of extra men to help with production. I assure you the company will benefit in the end." "Damn it, no!" roared Piltdon. "How many times must I tell you? You got your job back, didn't you?" "Feetch!" howled Piltdon. "I order you to remain!" Feetch almost submitted from force of habit. He hesitated for a moment, Money, Feetch decided after a while, was a good thing to have. His "Yes," Feetch would admit miserably. Piltdon, Feetch thought, feeling a strange sensation deep within his chest that he had not the experience to recognize as the beginning of a slow anger, Piltdon was hitting low and getting away with it. Of course, if he were to agree to reveal his latest discoveries to a 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—" Piltdon Opener will soon be forced to close down, throwing all your former associates out of work? Think of Hanson, Sanchez, Forbes. They have families too. Think of the men in the shop, the girls in the Think of that, Feetch." Piltdon eyed him sharply, then smiled with a hint of triumph. "Think it over, Feetch." Feetch sat, thinking it over. Was it right to let all these people lose Feetch hung up. A glow of anger that had been building up in his chest Feetch walked into the kitchen and carefully poured himself a drink of Think? He'd figured the solution long ago, only he hadn't allowed himself to see it. Not lack of brains, lack of guts. Well, he thought grimly, dialing Piltdon's number, he was going through with it now. "Piltdon!" he barked. "Three p.m. tomorrow. My place. Be here. That's all." He hung up. In the same grim mood the following morning, he placed a few more calls. hand. "Here is everything I know about what I call the Feetch Effect, one condition is met by Mr. Piltdon." He stared at Piltdon. "In short, I want fifty-one per cent of the stock of Piltdon Opener." Piltdon leaped from his chair. "Outrageous!" He roared. "Ridiculous!" "Fifty-one percent," said Feetch firmly. "Don't bother with any "Well," murmured the Government man, "I never did think Feetch got a Feetch looked up from his desk in the newly constructed Feetch Multi-Dimensional Development Division of the Piltdon Opener Company. "Piltdon, don't bother me about production. Production is your problem." "But Mr. Feetch—" "Get out," said Feetch. Piltdon blanched and left.

<question>:
What didn't Feetch get at the end of the story?

<options>:
A Money to pay for his wife's medical bills
B Credit for his discoveries
C The job he wanted
D Piltdon's job

<answer>:

D