Let me explain to you something you will not hear from most septic companies: I’ve actually been waist-deep in raw sewage since I was 12 years old. Seems appealing, right? Back in the summer of ’98, my brothers and I thought our mother and father had completely lost their minds. Instead of enrolling us for little league like typical kids, we were carving out trenches for our family’s new septic system under the blistering Washington sun. Little did we know those blisters would turn into our blueprint.

Here’s the ugly truth nearly all companies refuse to admit: Septic work is not just about hardware. It’s really about knowing what occurs underground after the backhoe leaves. Nearly all folks start in this business through pumping trucks. We? We began with tools in our hands and clay up to our knees.

I’m never forget the day our installer, old Gus Petrovich, threw me a level and barked, “Young man, if you are unable to lay pipe straight, you’re gonna drown someone’s lawn in crap by Tuesday.” He was not wrong. We spent three days that July wrestling with a challenging clay bed near Redmond—excavating, measuring, swearing, repeat. But here comes the twist: Gus kept inviting us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, I could identify a deteriorating drain field from 50 yards.

That’s the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While competitors were occupied with buying flashy trucks, we were understanding why systems actually fail. Like that horror project in ’03 where we watched a “certified” crew install a tank with absolutely no regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Property looked like a marsh. We promised then: No half-measures. Not once.

Fast forward to 2009. My brother Art (you’ll see his name all over our permits) almost bankrupted us requiring on triple-checking every perc test. “Remember the swamp house,” he’d growl. We ate ramen for six months. But when the downturn hit? Our systems kept functioning while others collapsed. Suddenly, “Nikolin boys” was a thing shared between contractors.

Let me explain where we stand different: We construct 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 called freaking out about a holiday emergency. Art rushed out in his turkey-stained shirt. Turned out her “no-service” system installed in 2015 had a filter no one told her about. We never just solve it—we showed her grandson how to clean it.

You believe that’s standard? Think again. Most companies want you on a $200/month care plan. We rather you understand your system. Like that time we mapped out 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 rough hands. In the way Art still picks up the phone at (425) 553-3422 directly. In the Instagram reel where my nephew cringes at a DIYer’s “stone-less drain field masterpiece” (@septic_solutionsllc—subscribe for laughs and legit tips). It is in the YouTube video where we condensed a 72-hour install in pouring Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But let me share the real magic: We’ve turned every setback into your gain. That green disaster in Bothell? Showed us to add root barriers automatically. The “ghost flush” mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on all job. Even our tanks are special—we spec heavier concrete after witnessing how Pacific Northwest winters crack cheaper models.

Don’t just take my statement for web page it. Ask the ex- Boeing engineer who dared us to manage his sloping lot in Duvall. “Impossible,” said three companies. We created him a pressurized system that’s outlasted two of his cars. Or the young family in Monroe whose contractor installed an undersized tank—we rebuilt their entire layout during a blizzard without breaking their budget.

This isn’t marketing fluff. It’s 25 years of numb fingers, misunderstood soil reports, and fierce pride in doing it right. We have cried over caved-in trenches in January rains. 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 epic granite battle.

So if you find yourself scrolling through septic companies thinking who won’t evaporate after the check clears? Remember the boys who still recall their first lesson from Gus: “A decent system hides. A great system works while hiding.” We never just build this business—we developed it from the ground up, one honest hole at a time.

Your turn. What is your system hiding?