I need to share with you something you won’t hear from most septic companies: I’ve actually been buried in raw sewage since I was a preteen years old. Looks appealing, right? Back in the blazing days of ’98, my brothers and I thought our parents had lost their minds. Instead of registering for little league like typical kids, we were excavating trenches for our family’s new septic system under the brutal Washington sun. Who knew those calluses would become our blueprint.

This is the harsh truth most companies won’t admit: Septic work is not just about equipment. It’s about grasping what occurs underground after the machinery leaves. The majority of folks start in this business through maintenance vans. We? We began with implements in our hands and muck up to our knees.

I’m never forget the day our installer, old Gus Petrovich, handed me a level and barked, “Boy, if you can’t lay pipe straight, you’ll drown someone’s lawn in sewage by Tuesday.” He sure wasn’t wrong. We spent three days that July battling with a challenging clay bed near Redmond—digging, measuring, swearing, repeat. But this is the twist: Gus kept bringing us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, webpage I could spot a failing drain field from 50 yards.

That’s the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While rivals were focused on buying flashy trucks, we were understanding why systems truly fail. Like that disaster project in ’03 where we witnessed a “expert” crew install a tank with absolutely no regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Yard looked like a wetland. We vowed then: No compromises. Not once.

Fast forward to 2009. My brother Art (you’ll see his name all over our permits) practically bankrupted us insisting on triple-checking 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 failed. Overnight, “Nikolin boys” was a thing mentioned between contractors.

This is where we are different: We create systems like we’ll have to service them ourselves. Because here’s the thing? We usually do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville phoned panicking about a holiday backup. Art went out in his turkey-stained shirt. As it happened her “self-maintaining” system installed in 2015 had a filter not a soul told her about. We did not just fix it—we showed her grandson how to clean it.

You think that is standard? Wrong. Most companies prefer you on a $200/month maintenance plan. We rather you comprehend your system. Like that time we sketched drainage diagrams on Dave Miller’s kitchen table in Everett while his kids added crayon clouds. Why? Because when Dave’s willow tree roots attacked his leach field last spring, he noticed the waterlogged grass before it turned into a disaster.

Our magic formula? It’s not secret at all. It is in the blisters. In the way Art still takes the phone at (425) 553-3422 directly. In the Instagram reel where my nephew facepalms at a DIYer’s “no-rock drain field masterpiece” (@septic_solutionsllc—subscribe for laughs and legit tips). It’s in the YouTube video where we compressed a 72-hour install in pouring Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But let me share the real magic: We turned each setback into your gain. That mossy disaster in Bothell? Showed us to add root barriers by default. The “ghost flush” mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on each job. Even our tanks are different—we spec stronger concrete after observing how Pacific Northwest winters destroy cheaper models.

Do not just take my word for it. Ask the retired Boeing engineer who tested us to handle his sloping lot in Duvall. “Can’t be done,” said three companies. We created him a pressurized system which has outlasted two of his cars. Or the young family in Monroe whose developer installed an inadequate tank—we reconfigured their complete layout during a snowstorm without exceeding their budget.

This isn’t corporate fluff. It’s 25 years of frostbitten fingers, misread soil reports, and fierce pride in doing it correctly. We have cried over failed trenches in January storms. Celebrated 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 snapped during an legendary granite battle.

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

Your turn. Tell me what your system hiding?