Let me share with you something you aren’t going to hear from nearly all septic companies: I’ve actually been buried in raw sewage since I was 12 years old. Sounds attractive, right? Back in the heat of ’98, my family and I thought our mother and father had gone and lost their minds. Instead of signing up for little league like regular kids, we were excavating trenches for our family’s new septic system under the blistering Washington sun. We had no idea those calluses would transform into our blueprint.

This is the harsh truth nearly all companies won’t admit: Septic work ain’t just about pipes and pumps. It is about grasping what goes on underground after the backhoe leaves. The majority of folks get into this business through pumping trucks. We? We launched with tools in our hands and muck up to our knees.

I’m never forget the day our installer, old Gus Petrovich, tossed me a level and declared, “Kid, if you cannot lay pipe straight, you will drown a person’s lawn in waste by Tuesday.” He was not wrong. We invested three days that July wrestling with a challenging clay bed near Redmond—excavating, measuring, groaning, website repeat. But this is the kicker: Gus kept inviting us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, I could spot a failing drain field from 50 yards.

That is the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While competitors were busy buying flashy trucks, we were discovering why systems truly fail. Like that disaster project in ’03 where we witnessed a “professional” crew install a tank with absolutely no regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Yard looked like a swamp. We promised then: No shortcuts. Not once.

Jump to 2009. My brother Art (you’ll see his name all over our permits) practically bankrupted us demanding on thoroughly testing every perc test. “Remember the swamp house,” he’d growl. We ate ramen for six months. But when the crash hit? Our systems kept working while others collapsed. Overnight, “Nikolin boys” turned into a thing whispered between contractors.

This is where we’re different: We create systems like we’re going to have to service them ourselves. Because here’s the thing? We usually do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville phoned freaking out about a holiday emergency. Art drove out in his dinner-soiled shirt. Turned out her “maintenance-free” system installed in 2015 had a filter nobody told her about. We did not just repair it—we instructed her grandson how to clean it.

You assume that’s standard? Not a chance. Nearly all companies prefer you on a $200/month service plan. We would rather you comprehend your system. Like that time we drew drainage diagrams on Dave Miller’s kitchen table in Everett while his children added crayon clouds. Why? Because when Dave’s willow tree roots penetrated his leach field last spring, he caught the wet grass before it became a disaster.

Our magic formula? It’s not secret at all. It is in the calluses. In the way Art still picks up the phone at (425) 553-3422 personally. In the Instagram reel where my nephew cringes at a DIYer’s “gravel-free drain field masterpiece” (@septic_solutionsllc—subscribe for laughs and solid tips). You’ll see it in the YouTube video where we compressed a 72-hour install in pouring Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But this is the real magic: We turned all mistake into your benefit. That green disaster in Bothell? Made us to add root barriers standard. The “mysterious backup” mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on every job. Even our tanks are unique—we spec thicker concrete after observing how Pacific Northwest winters destroy cheaper models.

Don’t just take my word for it. Ask the ex- Boeing engineer who tested us to handle his sloping lot in Duvall. “Can’t be done,” said three companies. We constructed him a pressurized system which has outlasted two of his cars. Or the young family in Monroe whose developer installed an too-small tank—we rebuilt their whole layout during a blizzard without exceeding their budget.

This ain’t corporate fluff. This is 25 years of frozen fingers, misunderstood soil reports, and stubborn pride in doing it correctly. We have cried over caved-in trenches in January storms. Celebrated when our sand-filter system preserved a historic Carnation farmhouse. Even buried our favorite shovel (RIP #3) with Viking funeral honors after it shattered during an legendary granite battle.

So if you find yourself scrolling through septic companies thinking who will not evaporate after the check clears? Think about the boys who still know their first lesson from Gus: “A decent system hides. A superior system works while hiding.” We did not just create this business—we cultivated it from the ground up, one real hole at a time.

Your turn. Tell me what your system hiding?