Testing 3D-Printed Parts in Real Jobsite Conditions

I've been using CAD and 3D printing for the past few years to improve some of the tools I use on the job. As a Journeyman scaffolder, I've had plenty of time to find new ways to make my workflow a little easier.

The work is already hard enough. The last thing I want is to struggle with a stylus in the cold or have to reinstall my tool holster over and over again.

When I first started prototyping my ideas, I learned pretty quickly that 3D-printed parts have their own set of challenges. Print orientation, clearances, layer adhesion, layer height, material properties, infill and overall dimensions can all affect how a part performs.

Even something as simple as the orientation of an attachment hole can make a huge difference. If the load is carried through the printed layers, the part can be surprisingly strong. Orient that same feature so the load tries to pull the layers apart, and it can fail much more easily.

Most of what I've learned about making durable and reliable 3D-printed parts has come from testing prototypes and learning from my mistakes. Early on, I tended to overestimate the strength of a print. I would also try to minimize dimensions as much as possible to get that clean, sleek look.

Real-world use taught me pretty quickly where the limits of that approach were.

What does real jobsite testing actually mean?

Rather than trying to recreate every possible load with bend, pull or break-test rigs, I take the parts I've designed into the environment they were actually made for: the jobsite.

I wear them. I use them. I climb with them. And I keep using them until something breaks, wears out or starts bothering me.

A prototype might spend months getting dragged up and down scaffolds, exposed to dirt and dust, knocked against steel, snagged on equipment, tossed into the back of a truck and used through both hot summers and freezing winter conditions.

After enough time has passed, I look at the part again for wear, damage or anything else that could be improved.

I'll also hand prototypes out to coworkers whenever I can. Their feedback is especially useful because they aren't attached to the design the way I am. If something feels awkward, doesn't work properly or simply doesn't make sense, I want to hear about it.

What am I looking for when testing a prototype?

The first thing I look for is fitment.

Are the dimensions right? Does it install the way I intended? Does it interact properly with the tool or piece of equipment it was designed around?

Then I look at how it actually feels to use.

I want my designs to be durable, but I also want them to look and feel right. If something feels bulky, awkward or unnecessarily complicated, it usually goes back to the drawing board.

Once I'm happy with the basic design, the longer testing phase begins. At that point I'm watching for cracks, wear, deformation, loose hardware or any other failure that develops through normal everyday use.

Sometimes the most useful information isn't whether a prototype failed. It's how it failed.

That usually tells me exactly where the next version needs to improve.

In practical terms, these are the main things I'm looking at whenever I put a new prototype into real-world testing:

• Fitment: Does it install correctly without excessive play, interference, or forced assembly?
• Function: Does it consistently perform the task it was designed for?
• Durability: Does normal jobsite use create cracks, deformation, layer separation, or damaged hardware?
• Wear: After weeks or months, where are the visible wear points?
• Ergonomics: Is it comfortable and practical while wearing gloves, PPE, and actually working?
• Retention/security: Does it stay attached when climbing, snagging, bending, or moving around?
• Environment: Does heat, cold, dirt, dust, or moisture noticeably affect its performance?
• Failure mode: If it fails, where does it fail and what change would prevent it?

For most of my prototypes, the goal of this field testing isn't certification. I'm trying to determine whether a design continues to work reliably in the real conditions it was actually designed for. Where safety or rated performance becomes part of the intended use, proper testing and validation becomes a different requirement.

What have my prototypes taught me?

One of the biggest lessons I've learned is that minimalism has its limits.

I'm always trying to keep my tool belt as light and compact as possible, and sometimes I've pushed that too far. Removing a few millimetres of material might make a part look cleaner, but that doesn't mean much if it creates a weak point that eventually breaks.

I've also learned how useful it can be to combine printed parts with metal hardware.

Instead of asking a 3D print to do everything, a bolt, threaded insert, pin, screw or other piece of hardware can take the load where plastic isn't necessarily the best solution. There is an absurd amount of readily available hardware out there, and finding the right piece can completely change what is possible with a printed design.

Every failed prototype adds something to the next one.

Sometimes it's a thicker wall. Sometimes it's a different print orientation, another material, a larger radius, a little more clearance or a completely different way of solving the problem.

Why some prototypes stay concepts.

There are currently a few designs I've shown on the site as CONCEPT ONLY because, even after testing them, I don't think they're ready to be sold.

The Velox is one example. I've used and tested the design, but I've found situations where the current material and geometry can still break. There are also aspects of the design that I don't think are as ergonomic as they should be. It works as a concept, but it hasn't reached the point where I'm satisfied enough with it to call it a finished product.

The tethered Holster Lock is another example, but for a different reason. The concept works, but anything intended to act as part of a tool-tethering system brings much more serious safety considerations with it. Before I would be comfortable selling something for that purpose, I would want proper testing and validation to establish what loads it can reliably handle and whether it is appropriate for that type of use.

Until I'm confident that a design performs the way I expect it to—and that I can responsibly stand behind its intended use—it stays a concept.

How do I know when a test is successful?

This is probably my favourite part.

When I first bring a new prototype to work, I tend to baby it a little.

I designed it. I printed it. I've probably already gone through several versions of it, and naturally, I want to see it succeed.

Then eventually I stop thinking about it.

I get into the flow of the job. The prototype gets dragged up and down scaffolds, covered in dirt and dust, caught on things, thrown into the truck and used through heat, cold and everything else the job throws at it.

That's when the real testing begins.

Eventually I'll look at a prototype I've been using for months and realize that I almost forgot I was testing it in the first place.

For me, that's one of the best signs that a design has succeeded.

It stopped being a prototype I was consciously testing and simply became another tool I use at work.

The ideas may look good in CAD, but the jobsite is the real judge.