Let me explain to you something you aren’t going to hear from nearly all septic companies: I’ve actually been elbow-deep in raw sewage since I was 12 years old. Sounds attractive, right? Back in the summer of ’98, my family and I thought our folks had completely lost their minds. Instead of registering for little league like typical kids, we were digging trenches for our family’s new septic system under the blistering Washington sun. Who knew those wounds would turn into our blueprint.

Here’s the harsh truth the majority of companies will not admit: Septic work is not just about equipment. It is about understanding what occurs underground after the machinery leaves. Most folks enter this business through pumping trucks. We? We launched 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 said, “Boy, if you cannot lay pipe straight, you’ll drown somebody’s lawn in crap by Tuesday.” He was not wrong. We spent three days that July battling with a challenging clay bed near Redmond—digging, measuring, cursing, repeat. But here comes the surprise: Gus kept bringing us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, I could identify a failing drain field from 50 yards.

This is the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While others were busy buying fancy trucks, we were discovering why systems actually fail. Like that horror project in ’03 where we watched a “expert” crew install a tank with absolutely no regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Backyard looked like a wetland. We swore then: No half-measures. Not once.

Skip ahead to 2009. My brother Art (you’re going to see his name all over our permits) nearly bankrupted us insisting on verifying three times every perc test. “Remember the swamp house,” he would growl. We ate ramen for six months. But when the crash hit? Our systems kept functioning while others broke down. Overnight, “Nikolin boys” became a thing shared between contractors.

Here’s where we stand different: We create systems like we’ll have to service them ourselves. Because you know what? We usually do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville phoned freaking out about a holiday backup. Art rushed out in his turkey-stained shirt. Apparently her “no-service” system installed in 2015 had a filter not a soul told her about. We didn’t just fix it—we showed her grandson how to clean it.

You believe that is standard? Think again. The majority of companies want you on a $200/month maintenance plan. We would rather you know 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 caught the wet grass before it turned into a disaster.

Our special ingredient? It ain’t not secret at all. It is in the rough hands. In the way Art still answers the phone at (425) 553-3422 directly. In the Instagram reel where my nephew groans at a DIYer’s “stone-less drain field masterpiece” (@septic_solutionsllc—follow for laughs and real tips). It is in the YouTube video where we condensed a 72-hour install in pouring Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But this is the actual magic: We have turned all failure into your advantage. That overgrown disaster in Bothell? Taught us to add root barriers standard. The “phantom flush” mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on each job. Even our tanks are different—we spec stronger concrete after witnessing how Pacific Northwest winters damage cheaper models.

Please don’t just take my statement for it. Ask the retired Boeing engineer who dared us to manage 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 webpage installed an too-small tank—we rebuilt their entire layout during a blizzard without exceeding their budget.

This ain’t corporate fluff. It’s 25 years of numb fingers, misunderstood soil reports, and relentless pride in doing it properly. We cried over collapsed trenches in January downpours. 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 shattered during an epic granite battle.

So if you find yourself scrolling through septic companies wondering who isn’t going to vanish after the check clears? Consider the boys who still recall their first lesson from Gus: “A good system hides. A great system works while hiding.” We did not just establish this business—we grew it from the ground up, one honest hole at a time.

Your turn. Tell me what your system hiding?