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Allow me to explain to you something you will not hear from most septic companies: I have been elbow-deep in raw sewage since I was a preteen years old. Seems appealing, right? Back in the summer of '98, my siblings and I thought our folks had gone and lost their minds. Instead of enrolling us for little league like regular kids, we were excavating 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 harsh truth most companies won't admit: Septic work is not just about hardware. It's about grasping what occurs underground after the equipment leaves. Nearly all folks start in this business through pumping trucks. We? We launched with shovels in our hands and clay up to our knees.

I'm never forget the day our installer, old Gus Petrovich, web site threw me a level and barked, "Kid, if you cannot lay pipe straight, you'll drown someone's lawn in waste by Tuesday." He was not wrong. We dedicated three days that July wrestling with a difficult clay bed near Redmond—digging, measuring, groaning, repeat. But here comes the twist: Gus kept taking us to jobs all over Snohomish County. By 15, I could recognize a failing drain field from 50 yards.

That is the DNA of Septic Solutions LLC. While others were focused on buying expensive trucks, we were understanding why systems actually fail. Like that disaster project in '03 where we witnessed a "expert" crew install a tank with no regard for soil percolation. Three months later? Property looked like a swamp. We swore then: No half-measures. Never.

Skip ahead to 2009. My brother Art (you will see his name all over our permits) almost bankrupted us insisting on verifying three times every perc test. "Remember the swamp house," he would growl. We ate cheap food for six months. But when the recession hit? Our systems kept operating while others collapsed. All at once, "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 service them ourselves. Because guess what? We often do. Last Thanksgiving, Mrs. Callahan in Woodinville rang panicking about a holiday backup. Art drove out in his gravy-covered shirt. Turned out her "self-maintaining" system installed in 2015 had a filter not a soul told her about. We did not just solve it—we showed her grandson how to clean it.

You think that's standard? Wrong. Nearly all companies want you on a $200/month maintenance 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 attacked his leach field last spring, he spotted the wet grass before it became a disaster.

Our special ingredient? It ain't not secret at all. You'll find it in the rough hands. In the way Art still picks up the phone at (425) 553-3422 himself. In the Instagram reel where my nephew groans at a DIYer's "gravel-free drain field masterpiece" (@septic_solutionsllc—subscribe for laughs and solid tips). It is in the YouTube video where we time-lapsed a 72-hour install in pouring Kirkland rain (@septicsolutionsllc).

But let me share the actual magic: We have turned each failure into your gain. That overgrown disaster in Bothell? Made us to add root barriers automatically. The "phantom flush" mystery in Sammamish? Now we install effluent filters on all job. Even our tanks are unique—we spec thicker concrete after observing how Pacific Northwest winters destroy cheaper models.

Do not just take my testimony for it. Ask the ex- Boeing engineer who challenged us to tackle his sloping lot in Duvall. "Impossible," said three companies. We created him a pressurized system that has outlasted two of his cars. Or the young family in Monroe whose developer installed an inadequate tank—we rebuilt their complete layout during a blizzard without breaking their budget.

This is not corporate fluff. It's 25 years of frozen fingers, confusing soil reports, and stubborn pride in doing it properly. We have cried over collapsed trenches in January downpours. Celebrated when our sand-filter system saved a historic Carnation farmhouse. Even buried our favorite shovel (RIP #3) with Viking funeral honors after it snapped during an legendary granite battle.

So if you find yourself scrolling through septic companies thinking who will not disappear after the check clears? Consider the boys who still know their first lesson from Gus: "A decent system hides. A superior system works while hiding." We didn't just establish this business—we grew it from the ground up, one genuine hole at a time.

Your turn. Tell me what your system hiding?