Codes and Standards Jokes

The difference between 'shall' and 'should' is the difference between a requirement and what you say after the audit.

Mandatory appendix: the only appendix you can't have removed.

Code book humor is like a mandatory appendix: dry, well referenced, and nobody asked for it.

A code addendum is the standard's way of saying 'about what I said earlier.'

The vessel passed the hydrotest. The paperwork is still under pressure.

Cross-references keep you in the loop. Usually the loop is a figure that points to a table that points back to the figure.

Acceptance criteria: because 'looks good to me' doesn't have a table number.

An 'informative' appendix informs you of everything except whether it applies.

Some codes are meant to be followed. Others are meant to be followed by an interpretation request.

When two codes disagree about one weld, the only thing both will accept is a longer schedule.

Why did the inspector put the code book on the scale?

What do you get when you cross a code book with a trampoline?

Why did the Level III refuse to sign the weld as acceptable?

How do you know a clause has been interpreted correctly?

Why did the specification and the code go to couples counseling?

What does an inspector say when the spec contradicts the code?

Why does the acceptance table have a footnote on every row?

Why did the addendum cross the road?

Why did the pipeline inspector keep his code book in a sealed bag?

What's an engineer's favorite part of the code?

The code says 'workmanlike appearance.' Nobody has defined it, but everybody has seen the opposite.

'As agreed between the parties' is the most expensive sentence in any code book.

The engineer's spec adds requirements, the code adds exceptions, and the inspector adds sticky notes.

The code is clear: if it's ambiguous, ask the Level III. The Level III is clear: if it's ambiguous, ask the engineer. The engineer is clear: ask the code.

A thicker code book doesn't mean more rules. It means more reasons to write 'except as noted.'

There are two kinds of inspectors: those who know their code book and those who know where it's kept.

The latest edition fixes everything the old edition got wrong. Unfortunately, the contract still cites the old one.

You might be a code nerd if you've ever said 'it depends on the edition' at a dinner party.

You might be a Level III if you've ever cited a clause in an argument with your spouse.

You might be an inspector if your code book has more tabs than pages.

You might be a welding inspector if you've ever flipped to the acceptance table before saying hello.

The inspector found a discontinuity and checked the code. Table 6.1: acceptable. The client, thrilled, asked, 'So it passes?' 'It's a discontinuity, not a defect.' 'But it's a flaw?' 'Everything is a flaw,' said the inspector. 'This one just fits in the table.'

The engineer phoned to say his spec was stricter than the code. 'Then I'll inspect to the spec,' said the inspector. 'But the spec only has half the acceptance criteria.' 'Then I'll use the code for the other half.' 'You can't mix them.' 'Then which one do you want?' There was a long silence, followed by a revised spec.

A new inspector asked which code applies. 'Whatever the contract cites,' said the mentor. 'And the contract?' 'Cites the purchase order.' 'And the purchase order?' 'Cites the contract.' The new inspector nodded. 'So we're welding to a loop.'

Three inspectors argued over one clause for an hour. They finally agreed. Then the Level III arrived, read it, and said, 'Oh, that was superseded last year.' They've been quiet ever since.

Addendum (n.): A correction that arrives after the weld has been accepted.

Code Case (n.): An exception wearing a code number.

Scope (n.): The first paragraph of a standard, written to make sure your situation is excluded.

Informative (adj.): Describes any code material nobody is required to follow and everybody is expected to know.

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

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

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

The clause said, 'For details, see B.'
B said, 'Table four will tell thee.'
Table four, with a grin,
Said, 'See clause one-ten,'
And that's where it started for me.

Table six point one
says the weld is acceptable.
Then I read the notes.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
The code says one thing
And the contract says two.

Are you the latest edition? Because every clause about you has changed my mind.

You must be Table 6.1, because you meet every one of my acceptance criteria.

Ever notice the clause you need is never in the section you'd expect? It's always in the one nobody tabbed.

Nobody warns you that you'll spend more time debating what a code word means than inspecting the part.

Ever notice the code book has a table of contents, an index, and three appendices, and the answer is still in a footnote?

Every refinery has a corrosion circuit map, and every inspector owns a favorite highlighter for marking up the last three modifications.

The Navy inspector reviewed the weld map with the shipyard supervisor. 'All of these are required?' asked the supervisor. 'Every one,' she said. 'Even this one in the forward void?' 'Especially that one.' The supervisor sighed, picked up a flashlight, and handed her the other one.

Somewhere under every old bridge is a 1960s weld that would like a word with the current code book.

Ever notice the load rating is the one number everyone remembers, and the inspection behind it is the one thing nobody mentions?

Ever notice every process has a procedure, every procedure has a revision, and every revision has a different font?

The track is the same width it was a century ago, and the paperwork about it is a different revision every month.

The new edition of the code book is a real page turner. Every page number changed.

What's the first thing a Level III checks in the new edition?

The new edition is the old edition with one paragraph moved and nobody telling the paragraph.

The new edition
arrived with moved page numbers.
My notes are wrong now.

Nobody warns you that the new edition changes exactly the table you just memorized.

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

'It looks fine' is a wonderful opening line, and it has never once appeared in an acceptance table.

The light meter read half the level the procedure required. The foreman suggested squinting. The inspector suggested a second lamp. The lamp arrived by morning, along with the foreman's opinion that it had been bright enough all along.

What's the difference between a discontinuity and a defect?

Why did the crack file a complaint?

A perfect weld is a myth. A weld with only acceptable discontinuities is a Tuesday.

Discontinuities are innocent until proven rejectable.

A crack is the discontinuity that never needs the acceptance table to be rejected.

You might be an inspector if you describe a messy room as "lots of relevant indications, no acceptance criteria."

The welder asked the inspector if the porosity was acceptable. "It's a discontinuity," said the inspector. "So it's fine?" "It's a discontinuity." "Is it a defect?" "Let me check the table." He checked. "It's a defect." "You said it was just a discontinuity." "It was," said the inspector, "before I read the table."

Defect (n.): A discontinuity that lost the argument with the acceptance criteria.

Said a discontinuity, with a sigh,
"I'm no defect, so please pass me by."
But the table said, "No,
You are too long, you know."
Now it's rejected. Goodbye.

Nobody warns you that half of inspection is drawing a map so someone else can find what you found.

I treat my renewal date like a discontinuity. I find it, I document it, and I set three reminders so it never becomes a defect.

There once was a Level III sage
Who had memorized every page.
When you asked him to rule,
He would say, calm and cool,
'It depends on the edition's age.'

What's a client's favorite acceptance criterion?

Holiday lights are inspected more thoroughly than most welds. Someone holds every bulb up to the light, and nobody has an acceptance criterion.

The first-article part finally met the drawing.

First-Article Inspection (n.): The one part that gets looked at more closely than every part that follows combined.