Sitting in a brightly lit cafe in east London at the end of his first day in a new job, Victor Spirescu looks up from his plate of chicken and rice with wide eyes as he recalls the tumultuous events of the past three weeks.

Within minutes of touching down at Luton airport on New Year's Day, the 30-year-old, who lived in a small village in rural Romania before flying into the UK to "work, earn money and go home", became the unwitting face of the UK's latest convulsion over immigration.

Since then he has, in a supreme irony, been forced by frenetic media attention to leave his first job working in a carwash in Bedfordshire – although he has managed to find another this week in east London.

His private life, including a conviction for assaulting a previous girlfriend, was splashed across the UK newspapers; he has been photographed with politicians, appeared on television alongside Ukip's leader Nigel Farage, and been stopped in the street by strangers wanting his autograph. "I don't know really what to think about what has happened to me," he says. "It is at the same time a good feeling and a bad feeling. At first it was quite exciting being a kind of celebrity, but afterwards I regret this because I ended up losing my job."

At the height of the media frenzy Spirescu, whose new job is in the construction industry, says he was getting more than 50 phone calls a day from journalists. Reporters were turning up at his family's home in Romania and photographers were posing as customers at the carwash where he worked in an attempt to get new pictures of him.

"I began to feel so bad," says Spirescu. "They take these pictures and they make me look like the shit man of this country because I come here to work. One photographer came with the car and got it cleaned and then took a picture of me – it was all getting a bit crazy."

Spirescu's journey from a man travelling to a new country in search of work and a fresh start to "the face of Romanian immigration to the UK" began as soon as he stepped off the first flight from Romania on 1 January.

Following months of scare stories in the British press about the waves of beggars and benefits cheats waiting for the working restrictions to be lifted on 1 January, journalists and politicians had gathered in the arrivals hall at Luton airport for flight W63701 from Târgu Mures. But it soon became clear that, despite media predictions, the overwhelming majority of the 146 passengers were part of the small established UK Romanian community – many of them professionals returning to their jobs after a Christmas break with their families at home.

So when Spirescu sauntered through with a woolly cap pulled down over his ears and admitted it was his first time in the UK and that he was here to work, he was quickly surrounded by journalists – as well as the chairman of the home affairs select committee, Keith Vaz.

"There were television cameras, journalists and this guy Keith Vaz – what was he about? I had no idea," says Spirescu with a rueful smile. "All I could think is, what is the problem here? I had just come to work, earn money and go home. I couldn't really believe what was happening."

Through a friend, Spirescu had arranged work at the carwash in Biggleswade, 40 miles north of London. After a media scrum and quick chat and photo-op with Vaz, during which the pair discussed football and what Victor knew about the UK ("soldiers with the big hats and the Queen"), he was taken from the airport on a minibus to start his new life.

But Spirescu's situation was already very different from that of the millions of economic migrants who move countries in search of work. And although the predicted deluge of people has yet to materialise – this week the Romanian ambassador said there may have been fewer than 30 new arrivals from his country so far – Spirescu said the attention became overwhelming. After two days, he felt he had no option but to leave his job.

"I was the image for Romanian people and I knew I must make a good image. I was getting too much attention from the media – they were hanging around all the time and making problems for the other people there. I didn't want to make problems for them, so I decided I needed to get away and get a new job."

Spirescu packed up his belongings from the house he was sharing and left. Another Romanian offered him a place to sleep for a night, and with help from a friend he found a new job as a construction worker in East London. Spirescu won't say exactly where for fear of encouraging more media attention at work.

Just as media interest appeared to have subsided, it was revealed that he had a previous conviction for assaulting a former girlfriend. Spirescu is reluctant to talk about the details, but says he has turned his life around and was shocked that journalists had gone through his private life. "It is in the past – four years ago. We change. The times change the man. We all change."

Spirescu grew up in Bucharest before moving three years ago to the remote village of Pelisor, where he shares a small two-bedroom house with his new partner, Catalina, 19, looking after pigs, chickens and sheep.

As streams of people file past the window of the cafe at the start of the evening rush hour, he admits the move to London has been something of a shock.

"It is a good place but it is crazy in this town. I see businessmen here and then over here is 'rasta-man'. There is so much variety of people. It is so strange to see." He says he expected it to be much cleaner in the British capital and doesn't like the food because "it doesn't have taste".

To emphasise the point, he skewers a bit of chicken on his plate and holds it up with a grin. "In Romania all the food is good because it is cooked at home and has taste. At home I cut the head off my chicken and I cook it there and then and it tastes very good."

Spirescu, who left school at 18 and says he learned English from the television, wants Catalina to join him in the UK and says they will stay probably stay for up to a year before returning home, buying a new car – a Mercedes – and "enjoying life".

He adds: "I want to find a job for her cleaning and with her money we pay the rent and all the food, and mine we save."

Despite finding himself at the centre of a political and media storm, Spirescu remains upbeat. He greets the waitresses in the cafe with a cheery wave and says that now he has a new job, he has few complaints. "I just come here to work and now I have a good job, so I make money and go home. It is a good feeling, you know, when you have money in your pocket and you can spend it in your country."

His building site job pays £60 a day and he hopes that may go up to £80 in a month or so. But he is still on the lookout for better-paid work. "I want to work in the North Sea, maybe crab fishing or on the big petroleum platforms. I want to make money."

Despite his confidence over his future earnings, Spirescu says he only has £5 left until he gets his first pay cheque in a couple of days. But as he finishes his meal, he seems unfazed. "If you want to make your dream, you must sometimes take the hard way. It is heavy now, but when the money comes it will be good. I will enjoy my life."

Earlier Spirescu had lent his cigarette lighter to another customer in the cafe who said she would bring it back after going outside for a smoke. As he gets ready to leave, he realises she has left with his lighter.

He shrugs his shoulders and laughs: "And they call us thieves!"