OPINION: One Nebraska worker’s race against time and the company

I’m not a man who goes looking for a fight, but I also won’t back down when confronted with one. I believe in standing up for what is right, protecting the health and wellbeing of those around me and trying to leave the world a little better than I found it. My name is Jeff Miller, and this may be my last fight.

I’ve spent my life in Fremont, Nebraska and have worked as a driver for Premier Midwest Beverage for 24 years. When I started, my goal was simple: provide for my family. As a Teamsters member, with union wages and union health benefits, my wife and I were happily raising our little daughter and even talked about growing the family. It was shortly after starting the job with Premier that our daughter was diagnosed with neuroblastoma of the liver.

Hearing the word “cancer” attached to your child changes you. But like any parents, everything we had was for her. So, I did what I’ve always done when a fight came to me: I faced it head-on. With the health insurance we had, we underwent a long stretch of appointments and uncertainty until her cancer went into remission.

But the fight wasn’t over because the treatments took something from her — she lost the ability to walk. Our daughter had beaten cancer, but she couldn’t stand. We spent months in therapy, going to appointments, doing whatever it took to help her get back on her feet. Watching your child go through that is something you don’t have words for. But we stayed with it. And eventually, she walked again.

Afterward things felt steady for a while. We had hope for the future and were able to breathe again. I was thankful for my job at Premier as it enabled me to provide for my growing family. We welcomed our second daughter into the world, and then a few years later were excitedly expecting our first boy.

We bought our baby boy clothes, stockpiled diapers, and pictured all the ways we would raise him to be a better version of ourselves. He was born on Sept. 7, 2007, but his heartbeat was faint. “A hole in his heart,” they said. “Fatal.” My wife and I had to make the hardest decision a parent can face. On Dec. 14, 2008, we took our baby boy off life support.

There is a before that day, and everything that came after. While our daughters’ health endured, our marriage never recovered from the loss of our son.

As time passed, I kept working at Premier as I had done for so long. I continued driving the truck and providing what I could for my family. In 2023, Glazer’s Beer and Beverage purchased my longtime employer, Premier Midwest Beverage. Something I gave little thought to at the time.

Then in October of 2024, I was diagnosed with sarcoma. Another fight. The doctors didn’t think it had spread, and I went through treatment with the support of my girlfriend and family.

As I was told my cancer was going into remission, contract negotiations began. This happens every three years and is a routine part of my role as a union steward.

When we headed into negotiations in 2025, something felt off. There is typically some pushing back and forth — it is a negotiation after all. But Glazer’s Beer and Beverage seemed like they were testing how far they could push us. We could feel the tension escalating, though we had no way of knowing what it was escalating toward.

Then the company demanded we give up our Teamsters health insurance. The same insurance that helped my firstborn daughter survive cancer and learn how to walk again. The same insurance that gave us 15 blessed months with our son. The same insurance that let me get treatment when I was diagnosed. Instead, the company is offering a new plan that would cost me and my co-workers more than $800 per month — putting a major strain on Nebraska families. We tried to meet the company in the middle, like we always had. Instead of movement on their side, they installed a ten-foot, razor-wire fence.

The contract expired on Jan. 31, 2026.

Given the refusal of the company to negotiate in good faith with their workers, we were left with no choice but to go on strike. About a month into the strike, my cancer came back. This time, it’s not going away. It’s in my bones. The doctors told me I could have as little as a year.

As you know by now, I don’t stop fighting. I never have. I’m still on that picket line every day.

This strike isn’t about getting rich. It’s not about control. It’s not about demanding more than we need. It’s about something simpler. It’s about the men and women who, like me, want to provide for their families in health and in sickness.

Though it may be my last one, I’m not going down without a fight.

Jeff Miller lives in Fremont, Nebraska, where he enjoys spending time with his dog, watching sports with friends and being close to his family.