When I was a kid, I didn't mind getting haircuts at a barber shop, but hated getting haircuts at home. The barbers treated me with dignity, politely telling me what to do (such as which way to move my head), and giving me advance warning on what they will do (such as spray my head with water). One barber even went as far as telling me: "Don't try to be a hero; if something hurts, go ahead and speak up." Most, however, just paid attention to the winces from pulled hair, and acted accordingly.
My parents, on the other hand, demanded utmost obedience, regardless of my discomfort. They demanded that I sit still, tell me what to do with borderline yelling, doing what they needed to do with no warning whatsoever, and ignoring the "ow, it hurts" remarks when they combed my hair. On top of all that, they wondered why I'm so cooperative with complete strangers (i.e. barbers) and so uncooperative with them.