I need to explain to you something you won’t hear from nearly all septic companies: I have been elbow-deep in raw sewage since I was twelve years old. Seems attractive, right? Back in the blazing days of ’98, my family and I thought our folks had lost their minds. Instead of registering for web site little league like normal kids, we were digging trenches for our family’s new septic system under the blistering Washington sun. We had no idea those calluses would turn into our blueprint.

This is the ugly truth most companies will not admit: Septic work isn’t just about hardware. It’s about grasping what happens underground after the equipment leaves. The majority of folks start in this business through pumping trucks. We? We began with implements in our hands and clay up to our knees.

I’ll never forget the day our installer, old Gus Petrovich, handed me a level and said, “Young man, if you can’t lay pipe straight, you will drown somebody’s lawn in sewage by Tuesday.” He wasn’t wrong. We spent three days that July wrestling with a challenging clay bed near Redmond—digging, measuring, groaning, repeat. But here comes the twist: Gus kept bringing 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 others were busy buying fancy trucks, we were learning why systems truly fail. Like that disaster project in ’03 where we watched a “professional” crew install a tank with no regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Yard looked like a marsh. We promised then: No shortcuts. Ever.

Skip ahead to 2009. My brother Art (you’re going to see his name all over our permits) practically bankrupted us requiring 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 recession hit? Our systems kept functioning while others collapsed. All at once, “Nikolin boys” became a thing whispered between contractors.

Here’s where we stand different: We create systems like we’ll have to fix them ourselves. Because guess what? We often do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville rang in crisis about a holiday emergency. Art rushed out in his gravy-covered shirt. Apparently her “maintenance-free” system installed in 2015 had a filter nobody told her about. We never just fix it—we taught her grandson how to clean it.

You believe this is standard? Wrong. The majority of companies prefer you on a $200/month service plan. We rather you know 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 penetrated his leach field last spring, he spotted the soggy grass before it became a disaster.

Our secret sauce? It’s 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 cringes at a DIYer’s “gravel-free drain field masterpiece” (@septic_solutionsllc—subscribe for laughs and real tips). It’s in the YouTube video where we time-lapsed a 72-hour install in pouring Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But let me share the true magic: We turned every failure into your gain. That overgrown disaster in Bothell? Made us to add root barriers by default. The “ghost flush” mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on all job. Even our tanks are different—we spec thicker concrete after witnessing how Pacific Northwest winters damage cheaper models.

Don’t just take my statement for it. Ask the former Boeing engineer who dared us to handle his sloping lot in Duvall. “No way,” said three companies. We constructed him a pressurized system that has outlasted two of his cars. Or the young family in Monroe whose contractor installed an too-small tank—we rebuilt their whole layout during a winter storm without exceeding their budget.

This isn’t marketing fluff. This is 25 years of numb fingers, misread soil reports, and fierce pride in doing it right. We cried over failed trenches in January downpours. High-fived when our sand-filter system rescued a historic Carnation farmhouse. Even laid to rest our favorite shovel (RIP #3) with Viking funeral honors after it shattered during an legendary granite battle.

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

Your turn. What is your system hiding?