I need to explain to you something you will not hear from nearly all septic companies: I've been buried in raw sewage since I was a preteen years old. Looks appealing, right? Back in the blazing days of '98, homepage my siblings and I thought our mother and father had completely 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 scorching Washington sun. Who knew those blisters would transform into our blueprint.

This is the dirty truth the majority of companies won't admit: Septic work is not just about hardware. It's about knowing what goes on underground after the backhoe leaves. Nearly all folks get into this business through pumping trucks. We? We started with shovels in our hands and muck up to our knees.

I'll never forget the day our installer, old Gus Petrovich, threw me a level and declared, "Kid, if you can't lay pipe straight, you're gonna drown somebody's lawn in sewage by Tuesday." He was not wrong. We dedicated three days that July fighting with a difficult clay bed near Redmond—shoveling, measuring, groaning, repeat. But here comes the twist: Gus kept taking us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, I could spot a deteriorating drain field from 50 yards.

That is the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While rivals were busy buying expensive trucks, we were learning why systems really fail. Like that nightmare project in '03 where we observed a "expert" crew install a tank with no regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Property looked like a wetland. We vowed then: No half-measures. Never.

Skip ahead to 2009. My brother Art (you will see his name all over our permits) nearly bankrupted us requiring on triple-checking every perc test. "Don't forget the swamp house," he used to growl. We ate ramen for six months. But when the recession hit? Our systems kept functioning while others failed. Overnight, "Nikolin boys" became a thing shared between contractors.

Let me explain where we stand different: We construct systems like we will have to repair them ourselves. Because you know what? We typically do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville rang freaking out about a holiday emergency. Art drove out in his gravy-covered shirt. Turned out her "self-maintaining" system installed in 2015 had a filter no one told her about. We did not just solve it—we instructed her grandson how to clean it.

You assume this is standard? Not a chance. Nearly all companies prefer you on a $200/month maintenance plan. We would rather you understand 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 attacked his leach field last spring, he noticed the wet grass before it became a disaster.

Our secret sauce? It ain't 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—follow for laughs and real tips). It's in the YouTube video where we time-lapsed a 72-hour install in pouring Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But here's the real magic: We've turned each mistake into your gain. That overgrown disaster in Bothell? Showed us to add root barriers by default. The "phantom flush" mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on all job. Even our tanks are unique—we spec heavier concrete after seeing how Pacific Northwest winters crack cheaper models.

Don't just take my testimony for it. Ask the retired Boeing engineer who dared us to manage 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 too-small tank—we redesigned their entire layout during a snowstorm without exceeding their budget.

This ain't business fluff. This is 25 years of frostbitten fingers, misread soil reports, and relentless pride in doing it right. We cried over collapsed trenches in January storms. Celebrated 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 shattered during an legendary granite battle.

So if you're scrolling through septic companies thinking who won't disappear after the check clears? Remember the boys who still recall their first lesson from Gus: "A solid system hides. A great 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. What's your system hiding?