Bruce Anderson is the chairman of polling firm Abacus Data, a regular member of CBC The National's "At Issue" panel and a founding partner of i2 Ideas and Issues Advertising. He has done polls for Liberal and Conservative politicians in the past, but no longer does any partisan work. Other members of his family have worked for Conservative and Liberal politicians, and a daughter currently works for Liberal Leader Justin Trudeau. He writes a weekly digital column for The Globe and Mail.

Justice Minister Peter MacKay said some of his colleagues used the term "Albertastan" in their caucus meeting this week after Rachel Notley's big win.

It's a reaction better left behind closed doors.

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The Alberta election said something about openness to the NDP brand. How that develops will be interesting to watch.

But the bigger lessons coming out of this election might be for longish-toothed incumbents.

Voters have a special ear for arrogance. It's the mortal sin of Canadian politics. Few things can derail the campaign plan of an incumbent as horribly as an outbreak of arrogance and the reactions it inspires, among a people known around the world for self-effacing politeness.

Arrogance can transform a campaign about issues and rational choice into a battle dominated by emotions. When emotions run high, anything can happen. Including change on a scale we didn't plan on.

Most of us, most days, avoid change. We like predictability. Every morning, we drink our coffee the same way. Lunch? We'll have the tuna sandwich, again. Decades pass, and we deal with the same bank.

We know change is supposed to be good for us. The spice of life and so on. But generally we are comforted by routines and un-tempted by the life unlived.

When we make sweeping electoral change, it generally happens in one of two scenarios.

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One is when the status quo riles us past the breaking point. We can't wait to push the eject button. This scenario is easy to spot, and if you're the incumbent, failure is guaranteed.

Looking back at the polls before Jim Prentice called the election: that wasn't what was happening.

On the federal scene, you can say the same thing: 50 per cent of voters are sure it's time for a change. Not a tiny number, but not unusually scary either, if you're the incumbents.

The other scenario is when people aren't sure they want change, but aren't convinced they want to keep the incumbents in office either.

That was the case in Alberta, and more or less what we see on the national level. Only 22 per cent say they are sure they want the Harper Conservatives to have another term.

During a campaign, voters think about the risks and benefits of change. If the economy is not horrible, our aversion to change will often kick in, and incumbents will carry the day.

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At the start of the Alberta campaign, it would have seemed a fair bet that Albertans would calmly decide to avoid the risks of a lurch left or right and renew their 44-year habit.

What happened?

It became an emotion-driven campaign. When emotions run high, all bets on our aversion to change are off.

Jim Prentice had an invisible political ankle bracelet on. Voters wondered if they could trust that he was different. He sounds like it some days, but can we really count on it? Maybe he's just concealing that he feels entitled to be premier, and the Progressive Conservatives still think they are entitled to govern forever?

In one crystallizing moment, during the leaders' debate, there was a "tell." Mr. Prentice condescended to Ms. Notley, and it felt like he was condescending to everyone in the province. She had been sounding pretty good, and suddenly Mr. Prentice sounded pretty self-satisfied.

His ankle bracelet lit up.

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In a campaign, when things go horribly wrong, you get one chance to turn them around. Emotions were running high, and the Conservatives needed to calm things down.

Instead of pouring water on the fire, the Conservatives added kerosene. Instead of apologizing for the debate brain fade, Mr. Prentice breezily denied what was obvious about his "math is difficult" quip: it was a personal shot.

Next they organized a press conference where some businessmen said voters were nuts for thinking they had another choice. Vote NDP and you'll all be in the poor house, and we won't donate to the poor houses anymore.

A campaign that could have been a march to a familiar, even routine conclusion became something else.

The heart said, "stand back head, we'll take it from here." The rest is, literally, history.

Of the lessons to be taken from this week's stunning upset, this is the one that stands out most for me. Voters listen carefully for clues that time in office has created feelings of entitlement to office. Cross that line, and even your most "loyal" supporters will cross the road when they see you coming.