Let me share with you something you won’t hear from the majority of septic companies: I’ve been waist-deep in raw sewage since I was 12 years old. Looks attractive, right? Back in the blazing days of ’98, my siblings and I thought our parents had lost their minds. Instead of enrolling us for little league like regular kids, we were carving out trenches for our family’s new septic system under the scorching Washington sun. Who knew those blisters would turn into our blueprint.

Let me share the ugly truth nearly all companies refuse to admit: Septic work is not just about equipment. It’s about grasping what goes on underground after the equipment leaves. The majority of folks enter this business through service vehicles. We? We started with shovels in our hands and clay up to our knees.

I’ll never forget the day our installer, old Gus Petrovich, tossed me a level and said, “Young man, if you are unable to lay pipe straight, you’re gonna drown a person’s lawn in waste by Tuesday.” He wasn’t wrong. We invested three days that July battling with a difficult clay bed near Redmond—shoveling, measuring, cursing, repeat. But this is the surprise: Gus kept taking us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, I could recognize a failing drain field from 50 yards.

That’s the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While rivals were occupied with buying expensive trucks, we were understanding why systems really fail. Like that horror project in ’03 where we observed 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 compromises. Ever.

Jump to 2009. My brother Art (you’re going to see his name all over our permits) practically bankrupted us demanding on verifying three times every perc test. “Don’t forget the swamp house,” he’d growl. We ate cheap food for six months. But when the crash hit? Our systems kept operating while others broke down. Suddenly, “Nikolin boys” became a thing whispered between contractors.

Let me explain where we’re different: webpage We create systems like we’ll have to fix them ourselves. Because guess what? We typically do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville phoned freaking out about a holiday overflow. Art rushed out in his turkey-stained shirt. Turned out her “maintenance-free” system installed in 2015 had a filter no one told her about. We did not just fix it—we showed her grandson how to clean it.

You think that is standard? Not a chance. The majority of companies prefer you on a $200/month service plan. We rather you comprehend 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 noticed the waterlogged 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 himself. In the Instagram reel where my nephew cringes at a DIYer’s “gravel-free drain field masterpiece” (@septic_solutionsllc—follow for laughs and real tips). You’ll see it in the YouTube video where we condensed a 72-hour install in pouring Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But let me share the true magic: We turned every mistake into your gain. That green disaster in Bothell? Showed us to add root barriers by default. The “phantom flush” mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on every job. Even our tanks are different—we spec heavier concrete after observing how Pacific Northwest winters crack cheaper models.

Please don’t just take my word for it. Ask the former Boeing engineer who challenged us to manage his sloping lot in Duvall. “No way,” said three companies. We built him a pressurized system that has outlasted two of his cars. Or the young family in Monroe whose contractor installed an inadequate tank—we reconfigured their complete layout during a blizzard without busting their budget.

This ain’t marketing fluff. This is 25 years of frostbitten fingers, confusing soil reports, and fierce pride in doing it properly. We have cried over failed trenches in January downpours. Celebrated when our sand-filter system saved 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 isn’t going to vanish after the check clears? Think about the boys who still recall their first lesson from Gus: “A solid system hides. A great system works while hiding.” We didn’t just create this business—we grew it from the ground up, one real hole at a time.

Your turn. Tell me what your system hiding?