Trams are one of Brussels’ most familiar sights, yet the people driving them remain largely unseen. Behind the cabin door is a demanding profession shaped by public contact, heavy responsibility and long, split shifts that stretch from dawn to late evening.
Among the few women in this field is 28-year-old Laura Fochesato, who has been driving STIB trams for a year and a half. Her path was not accidental. “When I was little, I always said I wanted to do that,” she told The Brussels Times. “When I want something, I need to try it.”
Before stepping into the tram cabin, Fochesato spent three years as a care assistant and five years working in security. “And now,” she adds with a smile, “I’m here — driving trams.”
Working in a male-dominated depot
Women remain a minority across Brussels’ tram depots, often two or three on teams of ten.
But Fochesato says the imbalance does not define her daily experience.
“I always worked with men. If you greet everyone respectfully, they respect you too,” she explains. She also feels supported by the company, especially when dealing with difficult passengers. “The customer isn’t always right and the company supports us.”
Mental pressure behind the controls
To many passengers, tram driving looks simple. But the job is not physically demanding — it is mentally exhausting.
“People think you just press a button,” she says. “But you need to stay focused all the time.” Drivers constantly scan pavements, bike lanes and pedestrian crossings for hazards, especially with headphones, phone use and e-scooters making movement increasingly unpredictable.
“A tram can’t brake the way people think,” she warns. Rain and fallen leaves can turn rails slippery, stretching braking distance by several metres.She recalls a moment when a man stepped suddenly onto the tracks. “I stopped in time, but barely. Your heart races. If you don’t control yourself, you make mistakes.”
Bringing empathy into the job
Although she left care work behind, Fochesato still carries its mindset into her day.
She helps parents with pushchairs, encourages passengers to give up seats for older people and greets those who seem nervous or lost.
“It’s not about being a woman or a man,” she says. “Treat people the way you want to be treated.”
But she is not immune to uncomfortable situations. Once, a man stood too close behind her in a smaller tram cabin. “He said: ‘Let me take a good look.’ It felt gross,” she recalls. Since then, she avoids eye contact at certain stops to protect herself.
The hardest part: the hours
What challenges her most is not the driving but the split-shift system that dominates the job. Drivers often work early morning, pause for several hours, then resume late afternoon or evening.
“You’re mentally ‘on’ from six to nine, then again until early evening,” she says.
For workers living far from the depot, the long mid-day breaks cannot easily be used to rest or return home.
With children, she admits, she would consider pausing the job and moving into HR.
Still, she values the strong atmosphere at STIB: “It’s like family. They see when something is wrong. They help.”
A front-row view of Brussels
From her cabin window, Fochesato watches the city shift between neighbourhoods — from friendly greetings in Woluwe-Saint-Lambert to quiet detachment elsewhere.
“Since Covid, people became less social,” she reflects. “Even when someone gets robbed, people stare at their screens.”
Yet small moments continue to inspire her: a child waving, an elderly passenger thanking her, sunlight on wet rails. “These things stay with you.”
Despite the pressure, she has no regrets.“I love my job,” she says with conviction. And she has one final message for everyone crossing the tracks: “Make sure the driver has seen you. Make eye contact. We only have one life.”
