I need to share with you something you won’t hear from most septic companies: I have been buried in raw sewage since I was 12 years old. Sounds attractive, right? Back in the summer of ’98, my brothers and I thought our folks had gone and lost their minds. Instead of signing up for little league like typical kids, homepage we were excavating trenches for our family’s new septic system under the brutal Washington sun. We had no idea those calluses would transform into our blueprint.

Here’s the ugly truth most companies refuse to admit: Septic work isn’t just about pipes and pumps. It is about understanding what happens underground after the backhoe leaves. The majority of folks get into this business through pumping trucks. 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 said, “Boy, if you cannot lay pipe straight, you’re gonna drown somebody’s lawn in crap by Tuesday.” He was not wrong. We dedicated three days that July fighting with a stubborn clay bed near Redmond—shoveling, measuring, groaning, repeat. But here comes the surprise: Gus kept inviting us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, I could recognize a dying drain field from 50 yards.

This is the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While competitors were focused on buying fancy trucks, we were discovering why systems really fail. Like that horror project in ’03 where we observed a “expert” crew install a tank with absolutely no regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Backyard looked like a marsh. We promised then: No half-measures. Never.

Skip ahead to 2009. My brother Art (you will see his name all over our permits) practically bankrupted us demanding on verifying three times every perc test. “Don’t forget 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.

Let me explain where we’re different: We create systems like we will have to repair them ourselves. Because here’s the thing? We typically do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville rang panicking about a holiday backup. Art drove out in his turkey-stained shirt. Apparently her “self-maintaining” system installed in 2015 had a filter nobody told her about. We never just solve it—we instructed her grandson how to clean it.

You believe this is standard? Wrong. The majority of companies want you on a $200/month service plan. We would rather you comprehend your system. Like that time we sketched 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 wet grass before it developed into a disaster.

Our secret sauce? It ain’t not secret at all. It’s in the blisters. In the way Art still takes the phone at (425) 553-3422 personally. In the Instagram reel where my nephew cringes at a DIYer’s “stone-less drain field masterpiece” (@septic_solutionsllc—check us out for laughs and solid tips). It’s in the YouTube video where we condensed a 72-hour install in relentless Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But this is the true magic: We have turned all setback into your advantage. That green disaster in Bothell? Made us to add root barriers automatically. The “mysterious backup” mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on all job. Even our tanks are unique—we spec stronger concrete after seeing how Pacific Northwest winters crack cheaper models.

Please don’t just take my statement for it. Ask the ex- Boeing engineer who tested us to handle his sloping lot in Duvall. “No way,” said three companies. We built him a pressurized system which has outlasted two of his cars. Or the young family in Monroe whose builder installed an undersized tank—we redesigned their complete layout during a winter storm without breaking their budget.

This is not business fluff. These are 25 years of numb fingers, confusing soil reports, and stubborn pride in doing it correctly. We have cried over failed trenches in January downpours. Celebrated when our sand-filter system preserved a historic Carnation farmhouse. Even buried 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 isn’t going to evaporate after the check clears? Consider the boys who still know their first lesson from Gus: “A good system hides. A great system works while hiding.” We didn’t 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?