Let me explain to you something you won’t hear from most septic companies: I’ve actually been waist-deep in raw sewage since I was twelve years old. Sounds glamorous, 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 web page little league like regular kids, we were carving out trenches for our family’s new septic system under the brutal Washington sun. Little did we know those wounds would transform into our blueprint.

Here’s the harsh truth the majority of companies will not admit: Septic work isn’t just about hardware. It’s about grasping what goes on underground after the machinery leaves. The majority of folks enter this business through pumping trucks. We? We started with shovels in our hands and clay up to our knees.

I will never forget the day our installer, old Gus Petrovich, handed me a level and barked, “Boy, if you cannot lay pipe straight, you’ll drown somebody’s lawn in waste by Tuesday.” He wasn’t wrong. We spent three days that July wrestling with a stubborn clay bed near Redmond—digging, measuring, cursing, repeat. But here’s the surprise: Gus kept taking us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, I could identify a dying drain field from 50 yards.

This is the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While rivals were busy buying expensive trucks, we were discovering why systems really fail. Like that disaster project in ’03 where we observed a “certified” crew install a tank with absolutely no regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Yard looked like a marsh. We vowed then: No half-measures. Never.

Jump to 2009. My brother Art (you will see his name all over our permits) nearly bankrupted us demanding on triple-checking every perc test. “Think about the swamp house,” he used to growl. We ate instant noodles for six months. But when the crash hit? Our systems kept functioning while others collapsed. All at once, “Nikolin boys” became a thing mentioned between contractors.

Let me explain where we’re different: We build systems like we’ll have to repair them ourselves. Because here’s the thing? We usually do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville called panicking about a holiday backup. Art rushed out in his turkey-stained shirt. Apparently her “no-service” 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 think that is standard? Not a chance. Most companies want you on a $200/month care plan. We’d rather you understand your system. Like that time we drew drainage diagrams on Dave Miller’s kitchen table in Everett while his toddlers added crayon clouds. Why? Because when Dave’s willow tree roots invaded his leach field last spring, he caught the wet grass before it became a disaster.

Our secret sauce? It ain’t not secret at all. You’ll find it in the blisters. In the way Art still picks up the phone at (425) 553-3422 personally. In the Instagram reel where my nephew facepalms at a DIYer’s “gravel-free drain field masterpiece” (@septic_solutionsllc—follow for laughs and real tips). It is in the YouTube video where we time-lapsed a 72-hour install in relentless Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But this is the real magic: We have turned each setback into your gain. That mossy disaster in Bothell? Showed us to add root barriers automatically. The “ghost flush” mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on every job. Even our tanks are unique—we spec heavier concrete after seeing how Pacific Northwest winters damage cheaper models.

Don’t just take my statement for it. Ask the ex- Boeing engineer who dared us to manage 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 builder installed an inadequate tank—we redesigned their complete layout during a snowstorm without breaking their budget.

This isn’t corporate fluff. These are 25 years of frostbitten fingers, misread soil reports, and relentless pride in doing it right. We cried over collapsed trenches in January storms. High-fived when our sand-filter system rescued a historic Carnation farmhouse. Even buried our favorite shovel (RIP #3) with Viking funeral honors after it snapped during an brutal granite battle.

So if you are scrolling through septic companies thinking who won’t evaporate after the check clears? Think about the boys who still know their first lesson from Gus: “A good system hides. A superior system works while hiding.” We did not just build this business—we grew it from the ground up, one honest hole at a time.

Your turn. What’s your system hiding?