I need to explain to you something you won’t hear from the majority of septic companies: I have been buried in raw sewage since I was twelve years old. Looks glamorous, right? Back in the summer of ’98, my brothers and I thought our mother and father had completely lost their minds. Instead of registering for little league like regular kids, we were excavating trenches for our family’s new septic system under the blistering Washington sun. Little did we know those blisters would become our blueprint.

Let me share the dirty truth nearly all companies won’t admit: Septic work is not just about pipes and pumps. It’s really about grasping what happens underground after the machinery leaves. Nearly all folks get into this business through maintenance vans. We? We launched with tools in our hands and mud up to our knees.

I’m never forget the day our installer, old Gus Petrovich, threw me a level and said, “Young man, if you are unable to 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—digging, measuring, groaning, repeat. But here’s the kicker: Gus kept taking us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, I could identify a dying drain field from 50 yards.

That’s the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While others were focused on buying fancy trucks, we were understanding why systems actually fail. Like that nightmare 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 swamp. We swore then: No shortcuts. Never.

Skip ahead to 2009. My brother Art (you’re going to see his name all over our permits) practically bankrupted us insisting on thoroughly testing every perc test. “Think about the swamp house,” he’d growl. We ate cheap food for six months. But when the downturn hit? Our systems kept functioning while others failed. Suddenly, “Nikolin boys” was a thing mentioned between contractors.

This is where we stand different: We construct systems like we’re going to have to fix them ourselves. Because you know what? We usually do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville phoned in crisis about a holiday backup. Art rushed out in his gravy-covered shirt. Turned out her “self-maintaining” system installed in 2015 had a filter nobody told her about. We didn’t just repair it—we taught her grandson how to clean it.

You believe that’s standard? Wrong. Most companies push you on a $200/month maintenance plan. We 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 invaded his leach field last spring, he noticed the waterlogged grass before it became a disaster.

Our special ingredient? It ain’t not secret at all. It is in the calluses. In the way Art still takes the phone at (425) 553-3422 himself. In the Instagram reel where my nephew cringes at a DIYer’s “no-rock drain field masterpiece” (@septic_solutionsllc—subscribe for laughs and legit tips). It is in the YouTube video where we time-lapsed a 72-hour install in relentless Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But here’s the real magic: We have turned every failure into your benefit. That mossy disaster in Bothell? Taught us to add root barriers automatically. The “phantom flush” mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on every job. Even our tanks are different—we spec stronger concrete after seeing how Pacific Northwest winters damage cheaper models.

Don’t just take my testimony for webpage it. Ask the ex- Boeing engineer who dared us to tackle his sloping lot in Duvall. “Impossible,” said three companies. We built him a pressurized system which has outlasted two of his cars. Or the young family in Monroe whose builder installed an undersized tank—we rebuilt their entire layout during a winter storm without breaking their budget.

This isn’t corporate fluff. These are 25 years of frostbitten fingers, misunderstood soil reports, and stubborn pride in doing it right. We have cried over failed trenches in January rains. Cheered when our sand-filter system preserved a historic Carnation farmhouse. Even laid to rest our favorite shovel (RIP #3) with Viking funeral honors after it shattered during an brutal granite battle.

So if you’re scrolling through septic companies thinking who will not evaporate after the check clears? Think about the boys who still recall their first lesson from Gus: “A solid system hides. A excellent system works while hiding.” We didn’t just establish this business—we cultivated it from the ground up, one honest hole at a time.

Your turn. What’s your system hiding?