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 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 for?" Feetch adjusted his spectacles with shaking hands. "But Mr. Piltdon, "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 oppressive silence. thought Feetch. Twenty-five years of close supervision, dead-lines, years with Piltdon. That was some satisfaction. What now? He had to hang on to his job. Technical work was scarce. 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 Several days later, however, Piltdon himself charged into the drawing room and slapped Feetch heartily on the back, causing him to break a pencil point. "Feetch!" roared Piltdon. "Is this talk that's going 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?" "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 distributors along the Eastern seaboard. The first advertisements they appeared in millions of kitchens from coast-to-coast. Sales climbed to hundreds of thousands per day. Piltdon Opener went into 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 fame of the opener so that advertising was unnecessary. 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. When he finally found the answer, it was too late. The Borenchuck incident was only hours away. As soon as he could get hold of Piltdon, Feetch said trembling, "Sir, I "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?" Congressional investigation was demanded. Piltdon received threats of bodily injury. Lawsuits were filed against him. He barricaded himself "You're through, Feetch!" raved Piltdon. "Fired! Get out! But before "Forever, Feetch?" "You're positive, Feetch?" Piltdon's eyes glared into Feetch's. "Sir, I never make careless claims." 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?" The prospect of long years of heavy production schedules, restricted "Feetch!" howled Piltdon. "I order you to remain!" Feetch almost submitted from force of habit. He hesitated for a moment, "Yes," Feetch would admit miserably. 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 to Piltdon under the one year clause in the company patent agreement. No, Feetch told himself, he was revealing nothing that Piltdon might grab. The anger began to mount. But he was beginning to need money desperately. Jenny wasn't getting The phone rang. Feetch seized it and said to the image: "Absolutely not." "I'll go up another ten dollars," grated the little Piltdon image. 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—" Feetch blinked. This had not occurred to him. 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 it touched off the growing rage. If Piltdon were there he would have punched him in the nose. The twenty-five years. The tricks. The threats. 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, information. I am now going to give a copy to each of you, providing 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 counterproposals or the interview is at an end." "Stop bluffing," said Feetch coldly. "There's no other way out for you. Otherwise you're ruined. Here, sign this agreement." Piltdon threw the paper to the floor and screamed: "Gentlemen, will you be a party to this?" "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>:
Why did Feetch quit?

<options>:
A Piltdon never appreciated or listened to him
B Piltdon took all the credit for the Super-Opener
C Feetch wanted to retire
D Piltdon wouldn't give him enough money

<answer>:

A