Let me tell you something you won’t hear from most septic companies: I have been buried in raw sewage since I was twelve years old. Looks attractive, right? Back in the summer of ’98, my family and I thought our parents had gone and lost their minds. Instead of registering for little league like typical kids, we were carving out trenches for our family’s new septic system under the blistering Washington sun. Who knew those blisters would become our blueprint.

Here’s the harsh truth most companies will not admit: Septic work isn’t just about hardware. It’s about grasping what goes on underground after the machinery leaves. Nearly all folks start in this business through pumping trucks. We? We began with shovels 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 said, “Young man, if you are unable to lay pipe straight, you’ll drown a person’s lawn in waste by Tuesday.” He sure wasn’t wrong. We invested three days that July fighting with a stubborn clay bed near Redmond—shoveling, measuring, groaning, repeat. But this is the twist: homepage 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 competitors were focused on buying flashy trucks, we were discovering why systems actually fail. Like that horror project in ’03 where we witnessed a “professional” crew install a tank with zero regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Property looked like a wetland. We swore then: No shortcuts. Ever.

Jump to 2009. My brother Art (you’ll see his name all over our permits) almost bankrupted us insisting on thoroughly testing every perc test. “Remember the swamp house,” he’d growl. We ate ramen for six months. But when the recession hit? Our systems kept working while others failed. All at once, “Nikolin boys” was a thing shared between contractors.

This is where we are different: We construct systems like we’re going to have to repair them ourselves. Because guess what? We typically do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville rang panicking about a holiday overflow. Art went out in his dinner-soiled shirt. Turned out her “maintenance-free” system installed in 2015 had a filter no one told her about. We never just fix it—we instructed her grandson how to clean it.

You think this is standard? Wrong. Nearly all companies push you on a $200/month service plan. We rather you know your system. Like that time we mapped out 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 waterlogged grass before it became a disaster.

Our magic formula? It’s not secret at all. You’ll find it in the blisters. In the way Art still takes the phone at (425) 553-3422 directly. In the Instagram reel where my nephew cringes at a DIYer’s “no-rock drain field masterpiece” (@septic_solutionsllc—check us out for laughs and legit tips). You’ll see it in the YouTube video where we time-lapsed a 72-hour install in relentless Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But let me share the true magic: We turned all setback into your benefit. That mossy disaster in Bothell? Taught us to add root barriers standard. The “mysterious backup” mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on all job. Even our tanks are special—we spec thicker concrete after seeing how Pacific Northwest winters crack cheaper models.

Do not just take my statement for it. Ask the retired Boeing engineer who tested us to tackle his sloping lot in Duvall. “Impossible,” said three companies. We created him a pressurized system that’s outlasted two of his cars. Or the young family in Monroe whose contractor installed an undersized tank—we reconfigured their whole layout during a snowstorm without busting their budget.

This ain’t corporate fluff. It’s 25 years of numb fingers, misread soil reports, and relentless 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 broke during an legendary granite battle.

So if you’re scrolling through septic companies wondering who isn’t going to evaporate after the check clears? Think about the boys who still remember their first lesson from Gus: “A decent system hides. A great system works while hiding.” We never just create this business—we grew it from the ground up, one real hole at a time.

Your turn. What’s your system hiding?