I need to tell you something you aren’t going to hear from most septic companies: I’ve been waist-deep in raw sewage since I was 12 years old. Seems glamorous, right? Back in the summer of ’98, my siblings and I thought our mother and father had lost their minds. Instead of registering for little league like normal kids, we were excavating trenches for our family’s new septic system under the scorching Washington sun. Little did we know those wounds would transform into our blueprint.

Here’s the harsh truth nearly all companies won’t admit: Septic work isn’t just about pipes and pumps. It’s about understanding what occurs underground after the machinery leaves. The majority of folks get into this business through maintenance vans. We? We started with tools 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, “Boy, if you cannot lay pipe straight, you’re gonna drown somebody’s lawn in sewage by Tuesday.” He was not wrong. We spent three days that July battling with a stubborn clay bed near Redmond—excavating, measuring, groaning, repeat. But this is the kicker: Gus kept inviting us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, I could spot a deteriorating drain field from 50 yards.

This is the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While others were busy buying expensive trucks, we were discovering why systems truly fail. Like that nightmare project in ’03 where we watched a “professional” crew install a tank with no regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Property looked like a marsh. We promised then: No compromises. Never.

Jump to 2009. My brother Art (you will see his name all over our permits) almost bankrupted us requiring on triple-checking every perc test. “Think about the swamp house,” he’d growl. We ate cheap food for six months. But when the crash hit? Our systems kept operating while others collapsed. All at once, “Nikolin boys” was a thing mentioned between contractors.

Here’s where we are different: We construct systems like we’re going to have to service them ourselves. Because you know what? We often do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville phoned in crisis about a holiday emergency. Art rushed out in his dinner-soiled shirt. As it happened her “self-maintaining” system installed in 2015 had a filter no one told her about. We did not just fix it—we instructed her grandson how to clean it.

You assume that’s standard? Think again. Nearly all companies push you on a $200/month maintenance plan. We would rather you understand your system. Like that time we drew drainage diagrams on Dave Miller’s kitchen table in Everett while his children added crayon clouds. Why? Because when Dave’s willow tree roots attacked his leach field last spring, he caught the soggy grass before it developed into a disaster.

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

But let me share the true magic: We turned all mistake 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 unique—we spec heavier concrete after witnessing how Pacific Northwest winters damage cheaper models.

Don’t just take my word for it. Ask the retired Boeing engineer who dared us to handle his sloping lot in Duvall. “No way,” said three companies. We built him a pressurized system that’s outlasted two of his cars. Or webpage the young family in Monroe whose contractor installed an inadequate tank—we redesigned their whole layout during a snowstorm without busting their budget.

This ain’t marketing fluff. It’s 25 years of numb fingers, confusing soil reports, and fierce pride in doing it correctly. We’ve cried over caved-in trenches in January rains. Celebrated when our sand-filter system rescued a historic Carnation farmhouse. Even interred our favorite shovel (RIP #3) with Viking funeral honors after it snapped during an brutal granite battle.

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

Your turn. What’s your system hiding?