Allow me to explain to you something you aren’t going to hear from the majority of septic companies: I’ve actually been buried in raw sewage since I was twelve years old. Seems appealing, right? Back in the summer of ’98, my brothers and I thought our parents had lost their minds. Instead of enrolling us 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 calluses would transform into our blueprint.

This is the harsh truth nearly all companies will not admit: Septic work is not just about equipment. It’s about understanding what goes on underground after the equipment leaves. The majority of folks get into this business through service vehicles. We? We launched with tools in our hands and mud up to our knees.

I’m never forget the day our installer, old Gus Petrovich, threw me a level and webpage said, “Kid, if you are unable to lay pipe straight, you’re gonna drown a person’s lawn in sewage by Tuesday.” He was not wrong. We invested three days that July fighting with a stubborn clay bed near Redmond—digging, measuring, cursing, repeat. But here comes the twist: Gus kept inviting us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, I could recognize a deteriorating drain field from 50 yards.

That’s the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While rivals were busy buying fancy trucks, we were discovering why systems really fail. Like that horror project in ’03 where we watched a “certified” crew install a tank with no regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Yard looked like a marsh. We vowed then: No compromises. Not once.

Skip ahead to 2009. My brother Art (you will see his name all over our permits) nearly bankrupted us demanding on verifying three times every perc test. “Don’t forget the swamp house,” he used to growl. We ate cheap food for six months. But when the recession hit? Our systems kept functioning while others failed. Overnight, “Nikolin boys” turned into a thing shared between contractors.

This is where we are different: We create systems like we’re going to have to fix them ourselves. Because you know what? We typically do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville phoned in crisis about a holiday backup. Art rushed out in his dinner-soiled shirt. Turned out her “self-maintaining” system installed in 2015 had a filter not a soul told her about. We never just solve it—we showed her grandson how to clean it.

You believe this is standard? Not a chance. Nearly all companies push 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 invaded his leach field last spring, he spotted the waterlogged grass before it developed into a disaster.

Our special ingredient? It is not secret at all. It is in the rough hands. In the way Art still takes the phone at (425) 553-3422 personally. 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). You’ll see it in the YouTube video where we time-lapsed a 72-hour install in pouring Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But let me share the real magic: We have turned every setback into your benefit. That overgrown disaster in Bothell? Showed us to add root barriers automatically. The “ghost flush” mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on each job. Even our tanks are special—we spec stronger concrete after seeing how Pacific Northwest winters damage cheaper models.

Do not just take my statement for it. Ask the former Boeing engineer who tested us to manage his sloping lot in Duvall. “Can’t be done,” said three companies. We built him a pressurized system that has outlasted two of his cars. Or the young family in Monroe whose developer installed an too-small tank—we reconfigured their complete layout during a blizzard without breaking their budget.

This is not marketing fluff. It’s 25 years of numb fingers, misunderstood soil reports, and stubborn pride in doing it properly. We cried over caved-in trenches in January rains. Cheered when our sand-filter system saved a historic Carnation farmhouse. Even interred 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 will not vanish after the check clears? Consider the boys who still recall their first lesson from Gus: “A solid system hides. A excellent system works while hiding.” We never just establish this business—we grew it from the ground up, one real hole at a time.

Your turn. Tell me what your system hiding?