Radiographic Testing Jokes

Everyone said the darkroom tech was negative. He said he was just developing his character.

The image quality indicator is the only coworker whose whole job is proving the rest of us can see.

Gamma rays are bad at stand-up. Every joke goes straight through the audience.

Radiographers set the best boundaries. Theirs come with tape, rope, and a survey meter.

Inverse square law: the only place where doubling the distance divides your problems by four.

A collimator is the best manager on the crew: it keeps everyone pointed the same way.

My survey meter and I have a healthy relationship. It keeps me informed and I keep my distance.

Backscatter is just radiation coming back to see if you remembered the lead letter B.

A radiograph that comes out too dark is simply in a bad mood. It has density issues.

Fixer is the one chemical in the darkroom that really helps film move on.

Fine-grain film is like a thorough Level III: it takes its time, and the detail is worth the wait.

A radiographer never judges a part by its cover. She prefers to see what's inside.

Radiographers are the only people who shout 'Radiation!' on a job site and have everyone nearby relieved they said it.

Geometric unsharpness is a radiograph's polite way of saying your source was too big for the job.

A step wedge is a staircase that never goes anywhere, but it shows you exactly how far you've come.

Lead is the only worker who gets praised for letting nothing through.

Why did the radiographer send the film back to the supplier?

What did the film say when someone opened the darkroom door?

How does a radiographer end an argument?

Why did the Iridium-192 source refuse to make long-term plans?

Why would you never play cards against a sheet of film?

Go easy on me. I'm not as solid as I look.

Why did the film cassette get promoted?

Why did the darkroom retire early?

How many radiographers does it take to change a lightbulb?

Why did the radiographer think the film was haunted?

What does a pipeline crawler say when its radiograph is rejected?

Why do dosimeters make great friends?

Why do radiographers make great listeners?

Why was the fast film so rough around the edges?

Computed radiography plates hold their images like grudges, until someone finally erases them.

The only thing worse than a rejected radiograph is an accepted radiograph of the wrong weld.

Radiography is the only trade where the best shift starts when everyone else goes home.

I like my radiographs the way I like my opinions: sharp, well exposed, and free of artifacts.

The darkroom smells like vinegar and regret.

I don't have trust issues. I just want a second view at ninety degrees before I believe anything.

A lead pig is the only pig that has never leaked a secret.

Time, distance, and shielding: the three things every radiographer wishes the schedule would respect.

Expired film is just a fog machine you paid for.

A radiograph never lies. It just needs a good viewing light and an interpreter who has had coffee.

The best thing about digital radiography is that the image appears immediately. The worst is that the darkroom was the only quiet room in the building.

Exposure time is the one part of the schedule set by physics, and physics doesn't take meetings.

You might be a radiographer if your idea of a perfect night is cold, dark, and nobody within a hundred feet.

You might be a radiographer if the smell of vinegar makes you think of stop bath instead of salad.

You might be a radiographer if your dosimeter has been to more job sites than your passport.

You might be a radiographer if you read a densitometer faster than your own mail, and trust it more.

You might be a radiographer if your car has a roll of barricade tape in it and your family stopped asking why.

You might be a radiographer if you've ever stared at a 2T hole on a viewer until it showed up out of politeness.

A new technician was told: no light in the darkroom, ever. When the power went out across the building, she was the only one who didn't notice.

At 2 a.m., in the rain, the client's rep asked, 'What's the rope for?' The radiographer said, 'It marks the edge of the radiation boundary.' The rep looked at the rope, then at his truck. He has watched every exposure from the heated cab since, and says the view is better.

A radiographer visiting a kindergarten class explained that she took pictures of the inside of metal. 'Do the pictures come out?' a boy asked. 'Eventually,' she said. 'First they have to sit in the dark for a while.' 'Like me at nap time!' he said. 'Do they get cookies?' 'No, just chemicals.' He decided to become a firefighter.

The shop's new digital detector arrived. The old darkroom man, who had loaded film for thirty years, watched the first image appear in two seconds. 'That's it?' he asked. 'That's it.' He stood there a moment, then quietly went and made a pot of coffee, because for the first time in thirty years he had time to.

Two radiographers argued for an hour about whose turn it was to carry the survey meter. The supervisor finally settled it: 'You both carry one.' They looked down. Both were already wearing one.

A client asked why the shop still used film. The radiographer held up a radiograph from 1987 and said, 'This one is still perfectly readable.' Then she asked, 'Do you still have a computer that can open your files from the same year?' The client ordered film for another year.

Latent Image (n.): A radiograph's best-kept secret, until the developer tells all.

Barricade (n.): A rope, some tape, and a surprising amount of authority.

Exposure Time (n.): The only period during which everyone on site becomes a patient person.

Densitometer (n.): A device that tells you, to two decimal places, how wrong your guess was.

Artifact (n.): Any mark on the film that was not there when you started and is definitely there now.

Half-Life (n.): The point at which your source and your patience are both at fifty percent.

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Fog.
Fog who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Source.
Source who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Film.
Film who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Gamma.
Gamma who?

Knock knock.
Who's there?
Wire.
Wire who?

Safelight, soft and red,
film sleeps in a paper bed.
Then someone walks in.

Said the film to the lead screen, 'I mean,
You're the sharpest support I have seen.'
Said the lead, 'It's just me
Dropping scatter for free
So your image stays crisp and clean.'

Double your distance from the source,
And the dose falls to a quarter, of course.
So step back a few feet,
Let the math take your seat,
And let the law do the rest, with full force.

No chemicals now.
The image appears at once.
Still, the client waits.

My dosimeter clips on my chest,
It keeps every record and does its best.
It never complains
Of long shifts or rains,
And it never asks for a rest.

Are you Iridium-192? Because I'd still be in love with you after 74 days, even at half strength.

Are you a duplex wire image quality indicator? Because I just can't resolve my feelings for you.

Are you fixer? Because you make my feelings permanent.

Do you have a survey meter? Because every time I get near you, my readings go up.

Ever notice it only rains after you've taped the cassette to the pipe?

Nobody warns you that radiographers see the best sunrises, and every one of them is behind a barricade.

Ever notice the film never gets fogged until the very last cassette of the job?

Ever notice that the one time you forget the step wedge is the time the client asks to see it?

Nobody warns you that you spend four hours setting up for a four-minute exposure, and the four minutes are the only part anyone wants to watch.

Ever notice that after one fingerprint shows up on the film, the whole shop starts wearing gloves?

Radiographic film is a lot like a good friend.

Iridium-192 loses half its strength in about 74 days.

A new project coordinator asked how long Radiographic Testing takes. 'It depends on the thickness,' I said, 'and the source strength, the geometry, and the film.' She wrote it all down and added a new column to the schedule, titled 'It depends.'

Why was the casting so honest on the Radiographic Testing film?

Why does the pipeline crew treat the radiographer like the weather?

Ever notice that the girth weld that needs a re-shoot is always at the far end of the spread?

The inverse square law says doubling your distance cuts the intensity to a quarter.

Half-life is how long it takes for half of a source to go away.

How long does an Iridium-192 source take to drop to a quarter of its strength?

Why do the front-row students get the most attention from the lecturer?

The inverse square law says doubling your distance quarters the intensity, which is why you stand where the rope says.

Half-life is the only measure of time where nobody asks if you can have it done sooner.

You might be an NDT tech if...

A retired radiographer explained half-life to his grandson with a bag of candy. 'Every minute I eat half of what's left.' After six minutes the boy asked how much remained. 'About one and a half percent.' 'That's still a lot of candy.' 'That's what the source people say, too.'

Half-Life (n.): The time it takes for half of anything to disappear: atoms, patience, or the last donut at a safety meeting.

Inverse Square Law (n.): The reason standing twice as far away makes you four times as comfortable.

Seventy-four days.
Half of the source is gone now.
The schedule remains.

A radiographer, careful and wise,
Doubled distance, to everyone's surprise:
The intensity fell
To a quarter, as well,
As the inverse square law justifies.

Is your name Iridium-192? Because I know our time together is short, but I'd still like to see you again in seventy-four days.

Nobody warns you that the inverse square law also applies to classroom attention, with distance measured in rows.

Ever notice that the source always needs changing on the one weekend you made plans?

Why can't slag keep a secret?

Round dots on the film,
the shielding gas left early
and left these behind.

Slag hides in the groove
beneath the next pass, and waits
for the film to talk.

Every weld is perfect in the shop. Out here it has weather, an audience, and a radiograph.

A welder named Pete took great pride
In a weld that looked flawless outside.
But the film showed a trail
Of fusion that failed,
And Pete's pride began to subside.

Bead smooth, bright, and flat.
Beneath it, a hidden gap.
The film will tell all.

Proofreading a report is like Radiographic Testing: you can't see the problem until you hold it up to the light and squint.

A foundry shipped castings with pride,
All polished and shiny outside.
But the film, when we shot,
Showed a pore-filled spot,
And the inspector quietly sighed.

In an outage, everything is measured in hours: the work, the dose, the schedule, and the line for the break room.

The welder and the inspector were both responsible for the girth weld.